In the Noise of Sorry Night
by Saltandsweat
Summary: Chapter 9 now up! An unlikely relationship begins when two similar enemies meet again, and a rather odd love triangle is created. LMHG, SSLM, a little HGHP love, anger, betrayal. Lucius at his best, naturally.
1. The Haste

A/N: Something I randomly started writing in a Physics lesson, and it escalated once my friends got hold of it. I love them really. I do. IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT 

(if this ends up having chapters)****

Chapter 1 

Hermione slipped quietly into the Leaky Cauldron and looked around furtively. It was the usual Thursday evening crowd: bedraggled wizards trying to drink their way into the weekend, the few market witches who did not work Fridays. Sorry-looking and silent. It was late.

Her table was reserved as usual, her little corner nook with a glass of imported Muggle vodka, and the Daily Prophet. Gratefully she hurried to the table and collapsed into the armchair, her thick brown hair spilling over her shoulders. _Keep your head down, Hermione. You're stronger than this._

But her brain was powerless over reflexes, and uncontrollably she looked up. Yes. He was there. And as usual, he was watching her.

_Get a grip on yourself, Hermione!_ she thought sharply. _He doesn't know you're investigating him._

Oh, he had to know. Hermione and the other Aurors had been trailing him for months. And he wasn't stupid, she knew. In fact, she took some kind of relish in the fact that he was intelligent. And if he was watching her … 

She could feel his eyes on her skin. It was annoying, and distracting, and without thinking she glanced up and glared fiercely into his eyes. Her stare remained long enough on his face to see his eyes flicker in response.

Furious with herself, she took a gulp of the vodka, grimacing as it seared her throat. Why was he here every night, watching her? Sure, it made her job easier, but no Death Eater who knew he was under suspicion would linger in the same place for … had it really been three weeks?

Three weeks of hoping desperately that he would not have left Diagon Alley, that he would continue to indulge her voyeuristic pleasure … she loved watching him; she had admitted it already. She had known she would when she was first assigned her mission. Any predator will have a curious relationship with its prey, when it intends to bring about its death but depends on it for survival. _How would I amuse myself without him?_

It had only been three weeks, and already she was attached to him. 'Never develop feelings for a quarry,' Moody had said. He was right … and so was she, she reminded herself. She had no feelings for him. Anyway, she knew he hated her, although they had not spoken in years. She was only a filthy Mudblood to him.

And yet, in all her twenty summers of experience, Hermione had never shivered quite so much as she did under the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. 

*****

Concentrating on the newspaper did not help at all. She could still feel his gaze. _Piss off_, she swore crossly.

Lifting the glass to her lips, she studied his distorted figure through the crystalline liquid. Those silver eyes glimmered through the alcohol, resting malevolently on her face.

Hermione shook herself, and slammed down the glass in frustration. _Control …_

Ah, here was action. Malfoy had called over a waiter and was muttering in his ear. The man nodded silently, and disappeared.

Hermione closed her eyes, for a second. He was only ordering a drink. 

And yet … he had a full glass of wine next to him …

Oh, no.

And as Hermione had feared, a bottle of white wine materialised on her table, and the smirking waiter murmured: 'From the gentleman over there … he also sent this,' and he handed her a folded piece of parchment.

'Thank you,' Hermione whispered. As soon as she was alone again, she pulled the note open, hungry eyes feeding on Malfoy's beautiful handwriting:

_May I join you?_

Her head snapped up to meet his eyes. They were steady, a darker, more sincere grey than before, waiting for her answer.

What opportunity …

What danger …

She could not refuse this chance; she nodded imperceptibly. She had nothing that could betray her.

A tinge of a smile creased Malfoy's mouth, and he rose gracefully from his table, and walked to her. 'Miss Granger.' His lips barely moved.

'Mr Malfoy.' Hermione deliberately let some hostility into her voice. 'Sit down …'

As Malfoy sat back opposite her, creaking the leather seat, her mind raced desperately. What did he want? He knew she was an Auror … did he suspect she was his tail? Of course, he was clever … Hermione knew it was more than likely that he had guessed.

He was looking at her again. Even this close to her, he still observed, his eyes delving into hers.

Hermione waited patiently. He was, after all, the initiator. He obviously wanted something.

She raised an eyebrow in question.

Malfoy smiled, amused. 'I was merely wondering whether you would appreciate some company, since we've both been alone every night for the past twenty-two evenings.'

Hermione's eyes darted uncomfortably, and she shifted her weight in her seat. 'Thank you.' 

To be flattered? 

To be scared?

Malfoy ran his eyes along her cheekbone, and down with the neckline of her emerald robes, across where it revealed the slight curve of her breasts. 'My, my, how you've grown …'

'Don't even think about it, Malfoy,' Hermione snapped. 'We hate each other, remember?'

'If you hate me, then why do you keep coming back to see me?'

She curled her lip in a snarl. 'I'm not here to see _you_. I'm trying to research something for the Ministry.'

'Ah yes, your precious little Ministry,' Malfoy murmured. 'Still sucking away at Potter and Weasley?

Hermione took a very deep breath. _Control …_ 'I'm superior to Ron, Malfoy. And generally I have nothing to do with Harry … he travels too much for that.'

And then she cursed herself. Yes, perhaps it was true, but Ron resented her for it and it had caused them numerous arguments. Coupled with the fact that Hermione had been dating Harry at the time, Ron had felt so excluded that he had not spoken to either of them for months. Yes, it was true, but it was one of her weaknesses, and ought not to be admitted.

And Harry … by the Gods, she missed Harry. They were not together any more, to both of their regret, but Hermione knew that she still loved Harry more than she had ever loved anyone. And now he was the main Auror working for the Order of the Phoenix, and he was away all the time. Another weakness.

_Hermione, now is _really_ not the time._

She focused on Malfoy again, and blinked as for a second she thought she saw a glimmer of sympathy in his grey eyes. Then the clouds returned to marbled steel, and he said: 'It must be tedious, having to put up with such immaturity from them.'

She did not know how much he had guessed, or how much he already knew. But for a second she was shocked at herself, because her mind had murmured quiet, embarrassed agreement.

_Cover it up, Hermione. They're your friends. Defend them._

She was nearly thirty seconds late, but her conscience was stubborn, and so she still said lamely: 'Don't insult my friends, Malfoy.'

He snorted. 'Miss Granger, the whole world knows you're too good for them … I wonder what you could have done with pure blood.'

'It wouldn't have made any difference,' she snapped. 'Purity of blood doesn't have any effect on your intelligence, or your morality, or courage, or …'

He raised a hand to silence her. 'You generalise, Miss Granger. Yes, there are those such as yourself where it has made no difference. But you cannot say that for the whole wizarding world; you know that.'

There was a compliment there, and Hermione figured that she should probably accept it. But it was the first time he had admitted that she was intelligent, and of course Hermione was suspicious. And she decided to be blunt.

'Why are you being nice to me, Malfoy?'

'Oh, call me Lucius, Hermione. We know each other well enough for that.' He placed his hand on hers, still clasping the glass of vodka.

She jerked her hand away, anger and fear mounting in her velvet eyes. 'What doe you want from me?'

This time he slid his hand under the table, and placed it on her knee suggestively. 'What do you think?'

Hermione was ready to storm from the pub, regardless of the attention it brought her. But she was totally unprepared for the stab of warmth between her thighs, and she gasped in surprised.

She looked at him, and suddenly realised that he was handsome: a strong face and mouth, with those crystal diamond eyes and aristocratic nose. His figure was good, solid but not even close to fat … and he had to be forty, at lest. Twice as old as her, and she thought him attractive?

She had not had sex since she was with Harry, and that was nearly a year ago, and the touch of Lucius' skin to hers brought back her astonishingly strong need for physical love, even if it did mean sleeping with the enemy. She was a strong person – it would not mean anything, and it was not something that he could reliably use against her, since she could deny it vehemently and nobody would believe him.

'I'm sensing, my dear,' Lucius said slowly, 'that you are considering my proposal?' He slid his hand up her leg, tightening his grip.

Hermione's body decided for her, and she smiled slightly at the irony of her words at the beginning of the evening. 'All right, sir … I suppose I could allow you to seduce me.' He hoped fervently that that was all he wanted.

'But how _wonderful_ of you, Hermione.'

A fire flared at hearing her own name in that elegant voice, and she allowed him to take her hand, and leaving the win untouched, lead her from the room.

The journey up to Lucius' room was frustratingly long, and Hermione had to bite her lip to keep herself from begging him to hurry. He walked in front of her, graceful and lithe, and she realised that he had never expected her to refuse him.

'Lucius …' Her voice escaped her lips, and he stopped, and turned, regarding her sternly. 'I …'

'You're a virgin?'

Stunned, she replied immediately. 'No.'

He looked slightly disappointed. _Well, he would take pleasure in being the first. Bad luck, Lucius._

'What is it, then?'

'It's not that … it's just … well …' She had to work to fight the desire closing in on her mind. 'We can't tell anyone about this … if the Ministry found out, I'd be sacked … and your wife …'

'Of course, of course. I wasn't exactly planning to broadcast it, my dear. Come on …'

And she quickly followed him, let him take her into his room and lock it with a word.

Then he pushed her fiercely back against the door in the darkness, and pressed a harsh kiss to her lips. 'Who are you working for, Hermione?'

At once she was alert, scared. 'What are you talking about?'

Lucius ran his hands down her sides, over her slim hips, and murmured huskily: 'Don't play stupid, my dear …' Then his voice turned hard again. 'Who are you working for?'

Hermione's brain was going into overdrive, but the heavy heat of desire was still intruding on her mind, and Lucius' hands on her thighs did not help. She fumbled for an answer. 'I …'

He shook her hard, and his fingers rubbed further, intrusive. 'Who – are – you – working for?'

Sulkily, she slid her hands around his neck, trying to stall. 'Why … why do you …' But she gasped suddenly as Lucius' hand became more demanding, more teasing. 'The Ministry …'

'And are you investigating me, Hermione?'

Her name … she knew she would easily be able to control herself if it wasn't for his skill with words. But she was powerless, and her head fell against his shoulder, lips parted, and she murmured, 'Yes.'

Immediately he lifted her, and flung her onto the luxurious bed. She was shocked at herself, sickened, even, but the reproaches were distant, pale in the glow of her need to be satisfied.

Lucius lifted himself over her, and then grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head on the sheet with his strong fingers, ran his other hand down her jawbone gently.

'Lucius …' He had won. He had forced her to admit her mission to him. Now she wanted compensation for it, and she wanted it now.

He lowered his mouth to her, and she could feel her lips tingling as his own crept nearer.

Then he whispered to her. 'You Mudblood bitch.'

'Lucius,' she whispered desperately. 'Please …'

His mouth twisted in disgust. 'Get out.'

For months, Hermione had never come so close to crying as she was now. Desperately she begged him, pulled her hands from under his and pleaded with him. 'Please, Lucius, I didn't want this mission, I was assigned it … and now I don't want it anymore … I'll tell them to give it to someone else, I swear … just please have me …'

Lucius let his eyes scorn her, and then stood up and turned away. 'Don't be a fool, girl.'

'Lucius, if you want me, you can have me … why bring me here if you don't want me?' And then she knew, and she looked at him, stared yearning at his aristocratically long hair before turning her helpless gaze to his profile, half looking at her.

Then he laughed coldly. 'Miss Granger, you didn't think I actually want you, do you?'

She stared at him open-mouthed, fear and frustration and anger mingling in the stinging tears in her eyes. Then, quite suddenly, she released a string of insults, desperate to convey come of her conflicting emotions. 'You _bastard_, Lucius, you utter bastard … you're nothing but a lying, cheating, twisted wizard. Nobody loves you, nobody even _likes_ you except your Master, and he only because you're the only one willing to sink low enough … you're nothing!'

Lucius' grey eyes were quietly, sadly amused. 'Temper, temper, Hermione.'

The little guilt Hermione had begun to feel vanished, and she took the stride between Lucius and her, and slapped him as hard as she could. But immediately Lucius caught her arm and sneered. 'Honestly …' He seized her other arm, holding them carefully together so she could gain no leverage. 

'You monster,' she hissed, struggling breathlessly. He was stronger than she was, much stronger, and her wand was in her pocket. If it came to a fight, Luicus would win quite easily.

He looked at her, silky and mocking, eyes flickering harshly. Then suddenly he bent his head and crushed his lips against hers briefly.

Hermione gasped, startled, but he had already retreated, and now he was smiling bitterly. 'Run along, then.'

He had let her go, and she was safe. But she hesitated. Lucius' lips had been warm, warmer than the Slytherin snake that lurked in the mouth of his son. There were feelings there, tender feelings, vulnerable to a wolf's teeth. Waiting to be snatched.

But you are not a wolf, Hermione. Nor do you want him. You could never love him, you know that. And there are other places where you can satisfy your desire.

Lucius took a deep breath, and suddenly she noticed again how close he was to her.

'If you're going, Hermione, go,' he told her softly. 'If you're staying …' His voice trailed off, and Hermione shivered at the grim hope implicit in that phrase.

She decided to ask him. 'What would you want from me, if I stayed?'

'Whatever you would be willing,' he replied slowly, 'to give me.'

There were now no illicit suggestions, and Hermione wondered if he meant anything deeper than simple night. 'Say I was willing to give anything … what would you take?'

He did not answer for almost half a minute, and when he did it was not to her question. 'I can't tell you that … I'm not about to bargain my whole life for the hope of the love of one girl.'

She felt her face grow pale and cold. 'Love?'

He smiled again sadly. 'Do you think the only reason I was watching you is because you were watching me? No … you're attractive, Hermione. Not just physically … but if I give in then I'll demand far more than you'll give me, more than you _can _give, to me, anyway. So I can't – it's too dangerous.'

Hermione watched him curiously. Was he sincere? Training as an Auror had taught her to pick out truths, and he definitely seemed truthful, but Lucius was clever – she knew he could lie very convincingly.

And yet … this was the only time she had seen him like this. He seemed greyer, and he looked exhausted, emotionally. Hermione's mind flicked to his life, and he eyes widened involuntarily. Draco had been killed, Narcissa had gone mad with grief … she'd read it, remembered her vindictive smile. But he had constantly had to balance his life between the Death Eaters and his false position at the Ministry. So much thinking, turning over of situations in his head, and he had had no real trusted friends.

And now he had mentioned love, and in spite of all her hatred of Lucius, Hermione was frighteningly inclined to believe. 

She was growing weary of charades. She needed to know.

'Lucius, I'm tired. I'm tired of tracking people, handing them over to the Dementors, pretending I don't care …'

'You – you wouldn't do that?' Evidently Lucius was not able to sneer at the fear of the Dementors, no different from anyone else.

Hermione's hands began to tremble at the possibility of throwing away this man, this person whom she had just begun to understand. 'I don't know,' she sighed. 'You've done some terrible things, Lucius … God knows you'd deserve it …'

But she knew that for all his smirks and seductions, Lucius Malfoy was just as tired as she was. Tired of the war that looked to be never-ending, each side desperately struggling to gain an advantage. Tired of everything, of life.

And as she watched him, Lucius lowered himself into an armchair, crystal eyes fixed on her, emotionless, waiting.

Hermione shivered. She was still not immune to that stare; she knew she wanted him. And giving herself to him would alleviate some of his pain …

'All right, Lucius. I'll let you have your way for now, I'll let you take what you want …' She rested her weight on the arm of his chair, and then his hands slid around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. He sighed in satisfaction. 'Hermione …'

As his hands began to slide over her body, tugging at the fastenings of her robes, needing physical forgetting of torment, Hermione felt a peculiar sense of relief and calm. Even if this was wrong, in all possible ways, it felt perfect. The contours of her body fitted exactly into his … flawless.

She had not known it was possible to fall in love in a night.

Lucius spoke, straining his vocal chords in their excitement. 'You could have anyone you wanted, Hermione … hell, you could've had my _son_ at one point … why me?'

'Draco told you, then.'

'Mmmm.'

She looked into his face seriously. '_What_ did he tell you?'

'Nothing, actually. I mentioned you once, and he … well, he broke something. A few things, really. So I knew he loved you at one point. That was when I first started to notice you … I knew he hated you before, and I had no idea what could have prompted a … a change like _that_.' He laughed briefly, without humour, and she remembered too late that his son was dead. 'Now I know.'

'I'm sitting in _your_ chair, Lucius. Not Draco's. Not Harry's. Not Ron's.'

And then Lucius smiled, and Hermione was astonished. Never before had she ever seen him smile, not without sarcasm. He was a real person after all, then … his face was younger … admittedly less seductive, but the change was easily reversed. He looked happy, almost desperately so.

'You know, some day, Hermione, you'll have to tell me what happened with you and Draco.'

She nodded, smiled assuredly. What a strange turn of events. How ironic. Then she burrowed her face into his neck and murmured, 'Seduce me now, Lucius … please?'

At once his smirk returned, and she knew he was back in familiar waters. This was how she wanted him, sure and all at once confused. The way she was.

And as he bore her down to the floor, their flawed and doomed relationship began, and the clouds parted, shifted the moon as they made love in the noise of sorry night.

*****

A/N: What are we thinking? Good? Are we continuing? There are loose ends, I know … but it could be somewhat of a mystery.

Reviews would definitely help, though. ;)

~SS~


	2. The Real

A/N: The response to the first chapter was … well, wow. Thank you sooo much to everyone who reviewed – I love you all! I'd be delighted if you continued following this story …

Anyway, thanks again, and here we go.

*****

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT

Chapter 2

Hermione woke the next morning and winced as the light hit her eyes. _Damned alcohol._

She blinked a few times and then glanced sideways, and was suddenly very awake.

Lucius.

He was not sleeping, but was merely staring at her, grey eyes half-closed, filled with a mixture of lust and contentment. Then he smiled faintly. 'Morning.'

But Hermione was frightened, was cursing herself. Had she _really_ made love to him, with love in mind rather than pure desire?

Had she said she loved him?

No … but the mere possibility that she might have admitted such a thing to him made her shiver, and she regarded him with cold shock. 'I – I'd better go.' Dragging a sheet around her body, she leapt out of the bed and hurried to the armchair where her clothes had been flung the night before.

As she twisted her robes over her head, Lucius sat up above the covers, exposing his bare chest. 

Hermione glanced at him for a second and felt admiration crease her eyes. God, he was gorgeous.

_No, Hermione. You're an Auror. He's a Death Eater. You've parted ways already._

Perhaps so, but unlikely relationships always seemed to be the ones that worked. Draco, for example.

Not him, too. First one Malfoy, now the other? This is not your life, Hermione. You were not born to follow this route; it's been arranged so this isn't your scene.

Then why was she so attracted to him?

Lucius was still watching her, fingers tangling in his long hair, fiddling, expression calm and self-assured. 'You'll be back later, of course?' he asked in his low, rich voice.

Hermione glared. Damn him for being so bloody alluring! That hair, that perfect curving jaw, those eyes that mocked her, teased and tormented her, and finally caressed.

Several times she opened her mouth to speak, but was unsure what to say. How does one refuse a man whom one wants? It was so hard … Lucius had to be one of the most attractive men she had ever known, and he had claimed he loved her. It was worth considering, surely.

_No_. 

Hermione steeled herself, hardened her cinnamon eyes.

'Lucius,' she said quietly, meaningfully, 'I don't know what trick you played on me last night, to get me here, but I assure you its effects have worn off. I'm not coming back, and … if you've got any sense you won't try and chase me. I don't … I don't want you.'

Lucius simply continued to gaze, eyes cold and thinking hard. Then he spoke flatly. 'You're lying.'

_Yes, I am_, she replied silently, but she shook her head. 'I'm not, Lucius. There's no way I'd have done what I did last night without being under some false apprehension. Some false state of mind. You did it, and God knows I can't prove it, but I swear on my life I will never speak to you again. And if you ever try to speak to me, I'll murder you.'

She was pleased with her speech, and Lucius seemed suitably taken aback. She had sounded like she meant it, then.

'So … where are you going, Hermione?' he asked her.

'I don't know,' she snapped. 'I'm rejecting this mission; it was the wrong thing for me. I'll stick to what I'm good at: keeping my distance.'

'You weren't so good at it last night,' Lucius reminded her, and Hermione paled.

'Like I said, that was your fault.'

'I never did a thing!' he protested, and she knew he was telling the truth, hated herself for shifting the blame.

But still she persisted with the safer game she played. 'Don't lie, Lucius.' She raised her hand to silence his objections. 'I should have known, after Draco. I should have known never to go near the Malfoys again.' That, at least, was true. Returning to that aristocratic charm and lust _had_ been a mistake, one she now painfully regretted. She would get a transfer, she decided. Go and track Harry down, see if she was worth any help. Perhaps try and patch things up.

'After last night?' Lucius said incredulously. 'How can you be so cold with me now, Hermione?' Last night I told you I loved you, remember? And you accepted me, and you made love to me with that knowledge. Why would have you done that f you didn't want some part of me?'

Hermione glanced about the room, checked she had left nothing, and evaded the question. 'I'm leaving now, Lucius. I hope I shall not see you again for a long time.'

She knew that this was hardly likely, but still she closed the door on Lucius as if for good.

And walked straight into Severus Snape.

*****

Snape's face remained expressionless while he conducted Hermione through Diagon Alley, to a small flat above a shop selling Potions ingredients.

Finally, when they were inside, he motioned to her to sit down on the old leather couch, and Hermione lowered herself cautiously, staring at Snape.

They had not spoken in nearly a year, since the last full meeting of the Order. He had given her some information about Lucius … that had still been in the preliminary investigations, before she had even tried to watch him in person. He had advised her to … go carefully. She had misunderstood his meaning, then. He knew.

'Professor,' she said hastily, leaning forwards. 'I can explain -'

'I hope you can,' he replied mildly, eyes probing, calculating. 'I find it very curious that you should be leaving Lucius Malfoy's room at this time in the morning, where, I am informed, you spent the entire night.'

Hermione felt her face grow cold. _I am informed …_ Did someone else know, then? Had someone been spying on her?

'Who told you, Professor?' she asked quietly.

He smiled faintly. 'Actually, no one really told me, Miss Granger. I passed through the pub last night, and I was … astonished … to see you so … wrapped up in each other.'

She let out a breath. For now, at least, her secret was safe. Beginning to feel a little more relaxed, she wryly pointed out: 'You're sounding more and more like Dumbledore, Professor.'

Snape did not smile, and Hermione was reminded of how much he could frighten her. From her first Potions lesson, she had known that Snape was 'not a man to be messed with.' And it was true. Treat him with care, then.

Then an idea occurred to her, serious. 'Professor … what were _you_ doing outside Lucius' room?'

His face grew careful, alert. 'I had … business with Lucius. Urgent business.'

'What kind of business?'

He stared at her, the stern Potions Master filtering through strongly. 'I do not think you are in much of a position to be asking me difficult questions, Miss Granger. You have had … intimate relations with a suspect, the man whom you are supposed to be investigating. Do you not understand how dangerous that is?'

'It had a purpose, Professor,' she lied. 'How else was I to get into his room?'

His face was impassive. 'I thought you had more dignity that that, Miss Granger.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. Much as the comment stung, she was not going to let him make her explain her actions any further. She had a strong will … and she blinked at the irony, for it was the second time in twelve hours she had told herself that. 'We all have to make sacrifices, Professor.'

The problem was that despite all the confidence Dumbledore had in Snape, Hermione did not like him, nor did she completely trust him. He kept too many of his actions secret for them to be wholesome. She respected him, yes: he was extremely intelligent, and had admittedly made invaluable contributions to the Order, but there were sides of him that nobody understood, she knew, and it was clear that he was distinctly unorthodox in his way of handling things.

This 'business' with Lucius, for example. If it had been expected, or known about, he would have had no reason not to tell her. They were on the same side. So naturally she suspected something.

But equally, Snape must know that he was acting suspiciously. And he did not seem to care, which was stranger still, and frightened Hermione more. Did he expect her to find out what his business with Lucius was?

Well, she could not now. She had promised herself to stay away from Lucius, and she intended to follow her promise. Making choices to deliberately take her near him would be a devastating error.

Snape was watching her as she thought, and suddenly he addressed her seriously. 'Hermione, Lucius, isn't the sort to take a single night lightly. He thought you hated him … then you do this, and he's probably worked out you're investigating him.'

'He has,' Hermione told him wearily. 'He knows already. So I'm going to give up the mission … I was going straight to the Ministry.'

'He knows?' Snape sounded horrified. He's worked out that that was why you … why you _slept_ with him?'

She nodded.

Snape let out a short, humourless laugh. 'I imagined, Miss Granger, that you would easily be able to understand my concern. Lucius is a Death Eater, one of those closest to the Dark Lord. I have no doubt that he will report this incident back to his Master. A Mudblood has tried to take advantage of one of his most faithful servants.' He lowered his voice slightly. 'Voldemort is hungry for blood, Miss Granger … and physical … stimulation. I imagined that you would have considered these dangers before subjecting yourself to so much risk.' His eyes flickered slightly. 'Evidently not.'

Hermione groaned as she realised the truth of his words. How could she have been so stupid? So stupid that it took Severus Snape, someone she disliked so much, to make her understand the reality? Lucius had done the job well, to render her so imperceptive. And now she was probably in mortal danger.

But Lucius had said he loved her. With truth, and sincerity. Would he really now want to destroy her? Did Lucius Malfoy take so unkindly to being rejected?

In her position, the worst had to be expected, she knew. And so she said calmly: 'I will consider the peril of my situation, Professor. I think it … unlikely that Lucius will see fit to punish something so harmless as sex, but -'

Snape cut her off. 'Never assume that sex is harmless, Miss Granger. It creates a bond between two people, a bond of physical intimacy, and often there is trust involved, trust that neither will divulge the information. I take it you undertook such a discussion with Lucius? And were planning to keep to it? To simply tell the Ministry that you suspected he knew you were investigating him?'

Hermione nodded again. It was chilling, how this man seemed able to predict and deduce her every move, every intention. He obviously understood her far better than she did him. It seemed unfair, in a way. She could not even begin to guess what his involvement with Lucius Malfoy might be: he was so fantastically good at hiding it. Was it emotional, personal, financial? Did it concern Voldemort?

Again Snape was watching her closely, and she realised. That was how he did it. He had spent over forty years working out how to hide his emotions, which meant he could read more expressive people like books. Perhaps he did not know precisely what she was thinking, but a wary spark in her eye when she looked at him would betray her if her thoughts were on him. This man had made people a lifetime study, and he was constantly reaping the rewards. She shook her head in amazement. Incredible.

'Professor, if you will allow me to leave now, I must speak urgently with the Ministry, and have my things sent on from the Leaky Cauldron … I can't go back there now. I think I will find Harry, see if I can help him. At least I'll be moving, and I'll be protected.'

'Protected by the very people trying to find and kill Voldemort, Miss Granger?' There was an amused note in his voice, and then he shrugged. 'Do what you will; I suspect you do not want my advice, as much I think you may need it. I will, however, repeat my words to you from last March: go carefully.'

She gave Snape a half-smile, and he said nothing more, but merely watcher her sharply as she left his flat.

*****

Lucius Malfoy had considered the options now available to him. He had even wept a little, with the overwhelming emotion he felt for the girl. He hated himself for that emotion, and it was this self-hatred that had prompted him to make his choice.

Hours after Hermione had left, he now knelt before the Dark Lord. 'Master, I have discovered a weakness within myself. An – an emotional weakness.'

Voldemort merely raised his head, waiting for him to continue.

'It is a girl, my Lord. Well … a woman, really. She's beautiful and intelligent … but she's on the wrong side. And she is not pure-blood. It is Hermione Granger, my Lord. She was investigating me for the Ministry, and she overwhelmed me. I spent last night with her, in my room at the Leaky Cauldron. But she scorned me this morning, and I fear her retaliation.'

'And what would you like me to do, Lucius?'

Lucius took a deep breath. 'I beg you, my Lord, to remove this infatuation from my mind. I need the memory of it, to save me from making a similar error again, but I need to be emotionally free of it if I am to capture and kill this Mudblood.'

Voldemort considered this briefly, his red eyes gleaming. Then he nodded. 'I will do as you ask, Lucius. Kill the girl if you must, but I would be very interested to … explore her potential, if you understand me. But I will clear your mind of these ridiculous sentiments which so shame you.' He raised his wand. 'Faiblesse, vas!'

Lucius recognised the spell – it was a French charm he had used on Draco. That had been to get rid of his son's feelings for Hermione, too. Strange, how the past tended to return.

Slowly he felt the tenderness for Hermione ebbing from his consciousness, and when she was for him Miss Granger once more, he knew it was done. He bowed lower. 'My immense gratitude, my Lord. Now I may destroy her.'

*****

Hermione, miles away on a broomstick heading for her parents' house to tell them she was going away, felt something shift in her mind, but did not understand it.

*****

A/N: Well? I know there wasn't any Lucius being seductive, but it'll come, I assure you. Just later than you think, I suppose.

I'd like feedback, people …

~SS~ 


	3. The Fear and the Flight

A/N: I am very sorry that this took a long time in coming, but I am immensely grateful to those reviewers who read it and reviewed over the past couple of weeks: you prompted me to carry on with the chapter!

Actually, I'm extremely grateful to everyone who reviewed … this story might end up being my last in the world of fanfiction. I don't know … I'll see, but it may be time to move on. Although I guess it depends what the fifth book has in store for us …

Anyway, without further ado, here is the third chapter.

*****

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT

Chapter 3

Severus settled himself into a chair in Lucius' study. They were at Malfoy Manor, enjoying it while they still could. 'I wonder if I have the energy to be disappointed in you, Lucius. Or jealous, perhaps.'

Lucius smirked. 'The latter would be more flattering.'

'Or _flattening_, since we're talking about getting you on your back,' Severus retorted.

Lucius looked faintly hurt. 'Still insulting me, I see.'

The other man gave a wry, rare smile. 'It's how we work best, Lucius.'

'I know.'

There was a slight pause while the two tried to gauge each other's feelings. Then Severus spoke slowly. 'It's been a while since we were together, isn't it, Lucius?'

'Several months, I think.' Lucius smiled. 'Our Master would be disappointed in us.' His forehead creased a little, and he changed the subject. 'I hope Miss Granger did not suffer too cruelly at your hands, Severus.'

Severus hesitated, then abruptly he rose from his chair, and went to the window. When he spoke, there was resentment in his voice, though Lucius could not determine whether it was real or feigned. 'What happened between you?'

Lucius shrugged behind his lover. 'We spent a night together. I intend to punish her for it, my dear Severus. She was working for the Ministry, too … investigating me.'

'I know.' Severus cursed himself for letting it slip.

Lucius hardened his voice, stony. 'What do you mean, you know?'

Quickly Severus worked out his lie. 'Hermione trusts me, remember – she thinks I'm working with her.'

'Against me.'

Now Severus shrugged. 'I suppose.' He had to play it carefully, he knew. Both sides believed that he was secretly working for them, despite having openly declared allegiance to the other. It would be simple to switch his loyalty: he could just begin to change the situation of his lies.

Voldemort took pleasure in the belief that Lucius and Severus were 'together.' One of his most faithful servants with one of his most intelligent: it made a good combination. And the two men _were_ attracted to each other, it was true … but both pursued other interests, Lucius especially. Their relationship was apparently more a formality.

But Severus knew that it ran deeper than that. His warning to Hermione about the damaging nature of intimacy had reminded him just how precarious his situation was. Lucius had the power to damage him, to hurt him seriously. He could betray him to the Ministry … it would not be hard to prove how intimate they had been.

But to gain Voldemort's trust and favour, Severus was forced to carry on this strange alliance. He had to admit that there were benefits … in a world where homophobes were still common, acceptance by another man was unusual, and welcome. And the sex was undeniably good. Lucius was so experienced that seduction came naturally to him now. Severus came naturally to him, too.

He heard Lucius shift in his chair at his desk, and turned back to face him, preparing himself for the attack of grey, steady eyes. 'What are you going to do about her?'

A smirk. 'I won't stand for behaviour like hers, Severus. It's insolent and humiliating. But she won't make a fool out of me for much longer. Our Master wants to meet her … he wants to get to know her rather well, I believe.'

Severus took a sharp breath. He had been right about Lucius, and now he realised the advantages of their connection. Hermione was in danger. He only hoped the stupid girl had listened to what he'd said.

What had Lucius seen in her? Yes, Severus was not attracted to girls as a rule, but surely there was more to be had from another man, a man who could at least hope to understand what Lucius was made of … Severus would far better be able to sense Lucius' moods and thoughts than Hermione, or any other female. Male companionship was more satisfying, clearly … there was much more chance that emotions could be fully shared, felt like twins, like lovers …

_Severus_, his mind warned him. _Remember, these are the sorts of feelings that ruin people. You don't want to let jealousy cloud your judgement; your life is dangerous enough._ As a twice double agent, Severus had to use his wits the entire time to prevent anything going wrong which might blow his cover. And in this sense again, he was very like Lucius.

_Severus, remember that you have to be ready to betray Lucius when the time come. Perhaps there's no possibility of it now, since you'd be in danger and they're in no real position to offer you any protection, but _the time will come._ Albus told you. But then, he doesn't know how deep you and Lucius go … he thinks it's just a friendship. Poor, naïve Dumbledore._

And now Hermione had shifted the balance of things. He remembered his emotions at the moment he had met her outside his lover's room, so enormously tumultuous: anger at Hermione for taking his Lucius, anger at Lucius for betraying him, a little lust, and finally frustrated grief that his meeting with Lucius had been postponed. Oh, and the curiosity about Miss Granger's actions and motives. Which came second.

_Severus, you really _do_ love him._

He smiled a little coyly to himself. It was hard not to love him, after all. But it was certainly a bad idea.

Lucius' eyes were beginning to flicker gently, and Severus recognised the early signs of lust in his partner. He dismissed all thoughts of safety from his mind. There was always pure, meaningless enjoyment to be had, regardless of the responsibility that came with it.

He slowly held out his arms to Lucius. 'Forget about her for a while, would you?'

The aristocrat stood, and his long hair shifted beautifully as he lowered his head, taking in Severus' lithe body. Then his lips curled in a smug smile, full of desire. 'Perhaps for a _little_ while, Severus.'

*****

Hermione neared the wizarding camp in Holland where Harry was based, and smiled a little to herself. Here she would be safe, safe among people who loved and trusted her, people whom she could trust, people about whom she was sure. Harry was her oldest friend, aside from Ron … but he could not really be called her friend, since they had so little resembling intimacy nowadays. He was still in Scotland, still investigating the passages underneath the old castles of the highlands. They had received a tip from an anonymous Death Eater that they had business in these caves, and although the Ministry had taken these claims fairly lightly and assumed he was lying, Ron, in his own stubborn way, had straightaway led a band of wizards off to the barren heathery hills to investigate.

Poor Ron. 

Even Harry – not the most sensitive when it came to people's emotions and reasons – had worked out that Ron was only leaving to get away from Harry and Hermione. It was a little upsetting, the way Ron was reacting so strongly to their relationship. Hermione was not even sure if he knew they had broken up, he had cut himself off so thoroughly.

But Harry at least liked her, Harry knew and understood her. She had realised years ago why he was known as the saviour of the wizarding world. Far from only being a focus point for the fight against Voldemort, he gave off an air of calm and acceptance, of planning around what they had rather than being frustrated about what was already in the past. People who had known Harry's father seemed particularly sensitive to this characteristic in Harry, so she guessed James had probably had it also. A Potter trait.

The camp was exactly as she had remembered it – covering an area of about half a square kilometre, since it was their main base in Holland, a mass of magically shielded buildings conjured from wizard stone. A block for accommodation, a defence block that organised the shielding charms and spells, a training area and a headquarters.

Mad-Eye Moody was at the gate, his eyes darting about in his usual paranoid manner. Hermione, having been a little irritated by this at first, had grown to be grateful for this since it had saved them from an attack from a Dutch cult, apparently unsympathetic to Voldemort but with surprisingly familiar marks on their arms.

When he saw Hermione, his face grew a little grim, and as she reached him he barred her way. 'Name?'

Hermione recognised the line of questions about to come, and took a deep breath. 'Name, Hermione Isabelle Granger, born eighteenth of May, nineteen eighty-eight, position: Auror, clearance: top secret in the Death Eater Investigation Department, otherwise secret, code name: Cinnamon Swan, password for this particular camp … well, it used to be silken apricots.' She broke off and gasped the air before facing him again. 'I _am_ who I say I am, Alastor. I need to see Harry … I've given up my mission. I'm not investigating Lucius Malfoy any more. It's a little urgent.'

Moody's face had relaxed about halfway through her speech, but now grew faintly interested in this revelation. 'Have you, now, lass?' he asked. 'Well, you'd better see him then. He's in the training area, and careful, he's practising curses.'

She nodded, and thanked him, and was about to leave when he said suddenly: 'It's good to see you, lass. I'm sure Harry'll feel the same, you know.'

Her face closed up a little. She did not want to consider whether Harry's feelings for her remained. He was her friend, for now. Perhaps later, but at this moment she only wanted some comfort and safety.

Harry was waiting for her – evidently Moody had sent a message – and he crushed her in a tight hug. 'Fudge said you were coming.' They left the training hall, battered and black with smoke from curses, and walked in the sunlight towards a patch of grass where idle wizards could sunbathe. 'I heard you gave up your investigation of Lucius …'

Hermione's expression froze. It took her a few seconds to force herself to stammer: 'Well … yes. I think he suspected.'

'Why do you think that?' Harry's face was curious, pressing and twisting and trusting her all at once, and Hermione felt unable to lie to him as she had to Fudge. Besides, it seemed stupid for Snape to be her only confidant: that was an inaccurate representation of where her trust lay. Harry ought to know, if he was effectively going to protect her.

'I … he seduced me, Harry.' It was surprisingly easy to tell him, but suddenly she say another side to her situation, one in which she was now helpless. She was frightened, frightened of Lucius with whom she had been in love, and now tears began to fill her eyes at the thought of the havoc she had caused in her life in the last couple of days. A sob rolled up her throat, and then another, and without a shock she was crying in Harry's arms.

She could tell he was shocked, but he kept silent for a few minutes while her raw terror subsided. 'What happened?'

Slowly she told him, explaining about his power over women which she had not believed to be so strong until now, and about his interrogation even as they made love. She had to edit the story a little, to avoid the part where they had, in a world of shades of grey, fallen in love, and finally managed to portray herself as relatively blameless.

When she had finished, Harry hugged her again, harder. 'That bastard … I suppose we should have expected him to try that … but he's wrong if he thinks he's going to get to you. Of course you can stay here. There'll be loads to do, 'Mione. You're an Auror. You'll be fine. Go and see Remus – he might be in a meeting, but he's the official in charge of the camp. He'll tell you how you can help.'

*****

Later, in a quiet corner of the mess, Harry asked her again about the events with Lucius. 'Have you told anyone else?'

Hermione stole a glance around the room – it reminded her too much of the events in the Leaky Cauldron – and then nodded reluctantly. 'Snape knows … he met me just as I was coming out of Lucius' room. He worked it out, you know what he's like.'

'Do you think he'll tell anyone else?'

Hermione considered back to her conversation with Snape. 'I don't think so … he said he'd leave me to make my own decision. I don't really trust him, though, he seems … well, I don't know what he was doing outside Lucius' rooms. He said he had some sort of business there …'

Harry sighed. 'He does it all the time. He feels it's beneath him to tell people about everything he does … he's so bloody stubborn.'

'You can say that again,' Hermione agreed dryly. 'Irritating when it's just small things, but dangerous when we're talking about a notorious but unproven Death Eater.'

'Do you want to do anything about him? Because I'm _really_ not sure his behaviour is acceptable at the moment, not when we're supposed to be being really careful.' Harry looked a little uncertain. 'It's difficult … sometimes I think Dumbledore is blind not to see the odd things that Severus does.'

'Yes …' She thought back to the conversation, remembering her suspicions about Severus' motives. 'It was almost as if he was challenging me to find out, deliberately provoking my curiosity …'

'Do you want to try to find out?' Harry's voice was carefully neutral.

'No!' she replied vehemently, on her first impulse. 'Not if it means going near _him_ again.'

She knew as soon as she'd said it that it was irrational. She was an Auror. She was not supposed to be fazed by a mere Death Eater; in fact, she was supposed to go where they were to try to destroy them. If Snape was working with Lucius on something that could damage them, or his contribution to their effort, then it had to be stopped. Connections between the two sides were unacceptable.

_Oh, you hypocrite, Hermione._

She had made a mistake, and now she realised her folly. It put her in the most difficult position imaginable: having to choose between personal and professional fear. Positive feelings were easier to gauge, but she did not know how to decide which fear was the more crippling. If she met Lucius again …

And yet, if she did not investigate Severus, it was altogether possible, even probable, that they would have two destructive enemies, working together, betraying everybody. Severus had a fantastic brain, and Lucius had the confidence and the skill of his body to carry off anything they could plan; together they would be a nightmare.

The only thing that was perhaps preventing them from forming such a dangerous alliance was Severus' uncertainty about where his loyalties lay. If he were back at Hogwarts it would be more difficult for him, for there was Albus Dumbledore, the man whom Severus respected most. So he might be more vulnerable there.

She let her head sink down onto the table. 'Oh God, I hate my job …'

Harry slid a hand under her chin, and looked squarely into her eyes, smiling ironically. 'You don't. You bloody love your job. What else would you rather do?'

And it was true. She could admit it even now, when she was undecided between anxiety and pure, lust-ridden terror. She revelled in the fantastic, overwhelming challenge that it brought her, the surf of the very essence of the war. Her mind would be bored by anything else. This was where she belonged.

'I suppose I've got to go back, then, haven't I?' she sighed. 'Back to Hogwarts.'

Harry nodded a little glumly, and then rose and led her from the mess tent into the darkness of a November sky. 'Walk with me.'

The sky was clear, black and liquid, and Hermione's fear began to fade a little. Harry was here, and if she wanted she could easily have Harry back. Going to Hogwarts would be less difficult if she knew she had love to return to.

As she swept her gaze across the heavens, the moon held her gaze, earnest and piercingly bright. And at the same time, Harry turned to her, took her hand and kissed her.

It was not as she had expected. Harry's lips were familiar – she could recognise the reluctant smoothness, and they were warm and tender, but … it was not the same as it had been. Before, Hermione's heart had swelled at this ultimate expression without words, the immortal kiss … but now she felt nothing, not even physical enjoyment. Tears pricked her eyes as she drew back quickly. 'I … God, I'm sorry, Harry. I can't.'

His face was unreadable. 'Can't? Won't?' 

She had lost this battle too. 'I've got to go.' She embraced him briefly, lightly. 'I'll see you soon.'

As she hurried across the camp to her tented room where her things lay still packed, Hermione was blushing, with embarrassment and self-disgust and frustration. How had Lucius managed to affect even this part of her life? He had driven a clean, cold wedge between Harry and her. And it would be the same with everyone. She could never face them properly, having slept with the enemy.

Was that what it was with Harry? He had accepted her. He still loved her. And she had thought, only a minute ago, that she loved him.

But now there was another possibility, and dread began to chew her mind: the possibility that she longed for another pair of lips, bruising, passionate and forceful.

Those of Lucius Malfoy.

*****

A/N: Well, there you are. Up next: Hermione's return to Hogwarts … how is Snape going to react?

~SS~


	4. The School

A/N: Yes, this has been a long time in coming – since the fifth book came out, I've had to cool my fanfiction for a while. My blood was boiling at Rowling's apparent decline. Argue with me if you want, but I say the fourth and fifth aren't as good as the first ones.

Anyway, on with the story.

*****

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT 

Chapter 4 

Returning to Hogwarts was, expectedly, very evocative for Hermione. Not only did it bear memories of her school life and the stress that had accompanied it, but it was the place where it had all begun. Where she had met Harry and Ron. Where she and Draco had –

It was a happier time, before the complications of politics had finally dawned on her, before she had realised that truth was not truth unless it was what needed to be heard, and that in times of need, things simply had to be fabricated. Hogwarts stood tall, free of the corruption that laced the Ministry. Hogwarts was clean.

She collapsed onto the lawns, letting her broom and bags fall to the ground beside her. She had been flying for hours, too fast, she knew, but she had been afraid, and now the sun was beginning to stain the east.

The castle looked no different, but it held a sense of darkness, of wariness, that had not been there before Voldemort's open declaration of war. There was an acknowledgement of weakness, of a past feud to which not enough attention had been paid. The feud that had led to their present turbulence. The lake was somehow deeper, the Forest more menacing. Early morning in February, and it was deserted. Silent.

And yet … Hermione's nose twitched suddenly, sensing movement of air, and danger.

There was somebody near her, around her. Cautiously she stretched a pale hand out in front of her, and noticed, almost with irritation, that it was shaking.

Then there was a small sigh, and the castle shimmered, glittered, and Albus Dumbledore stood before her. 'Good morning, Miss Granger,' he said quietly.

'Shit, Albus, what are you trying to do?' Hermione exclaimed. She stilled herself, with effort. 'Sorry. You … you startled me.'

'So I see.' He looked down at her, tall, thin, frail, but undoubtedly formidable. 'Are you visiting, Hermione? Or are you checking Hogwarts for curses in a belated attempt to copy Alastor?'

He smiled, and Hermione knew he had been joking, but only just. She took a breath. She would have to tell him everything, or at least what she had told Harry. He would not believe any less. Or probably, she told herself with mingled wryness and regret, any more.

So quickly she explained to him her 'unfortunate experience' with Lucius, her meeting with Snape. 'So I'm a little … concerned, Albus. Suspicious, even. Harry wants me just to check that … that he's still with us.'

Dumbledore looked at her seriously. 'I want it understood, Hermione, that I believe – and I believe so strongly that I can assure you – that Severus is still completely loyal to our cause. Please do not ask me to explain how I know, but trust me when I tell you that he will never betray Hogwarts. I am somewhat reluctant to allow this to take place, if it means we are to start investigating each other as well as the enemy. This business with Lucius is probably nothing, you know. They are required by Voldemort to at least pretend to like each other.'

'Then he hasn't mentioned it to you?'

Dumbledore shook his head, eyes narrowed.

'If it's so reasonable and good, why hasn't he told you about this friendship before?'

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, for once, said nothing.

'And,' she added, confident that she had now won, 'if you _are_ right, my checking on him won't make any difference, will it?'

He sighed. 'Very well, Miss Granger. You may stay here for a while. But I want regular reports. And please don't search his office or rooms without warning me … I can't allow the privacy of my staff to be this casually interrupted.' He turned as if to leave, and then stopped. 'Oh … and what are you going to tell the school, and the staff? About why you're here, I mean.'

Hermione shrugged. 'Just that I'm visiting people. Most of them don't really know who I am, anyway.'

'All right,' he agreed. 'I'll get Minerva to find you a room. Near Snape's?' The query was almost amused, and Hermione did not want to think about its implications.

'Doesn't have to be. Wherever, really. Oh, and thank you.' The infamous Granger trick. Introduced by Muggles, from her father's side of the family. Get what you want, then you can afford to be grateful about it. She smiled up at Dumbledore. 'I think I'll have a sleep, as soon as I have a room … I've been flying all night.' And she was weary from looking over her shoulder while she did it, but she didn't mention that. There was no need to tell him that she was scared of Lucius' retaliation. Not that she was, of course. No.

*****

McGonagall was delighted to see Hermione, and immediately offered her the suite near the Gryffindor tower. Too tired to consider that it might not be useful, Hermione accepted, and proceeded to sleep until mid-afternoon, content at last that she was safe.

She rose eventually, and her first thought was of her new missions. So far she had given very little thought to how she was to conduct this. She had to investigate Snape, find out what his business with Lucius was, and form a reasonable judgement about his loyalty to the cause. And ideally, she had to determine all this from casual-seeming conversation. 

It was her most difficult assignment yet. At least with Lucius, there was proper proof of his hatred of Muggles, and it was common fact that he had sinister amusements. But everyone knew, and Snape had admitted, that he was sometimes obliged to take part in the various Death Eater practices for the sake of appearance. How was one to decide to whom he was dedicated? Hermione had never seen fit before to distrust Dumbledore's opinion, but now she really was not sure.

Still … she thought back to Harry's words. She did love her job, and she would not have been content away from the action.

She went to her new desk and found drawers containing parchment and ink. Quickly Hermione made a list of the facts she knew and the facts she needed to know.

_Snape connected to Lucius – both Death Eaters._

As an afterthought, she went back and scored out the word 'Lucius', replacing it with 'Malfoy.'

Is connection deeper? Are they friends?? Does Snape approve of/support Malfoy's activities?

_If AINAISB, who knows about it?_

The last was an acronym that Hermione had invented for herself. 'If all is not as it should be.'

_Is Voldemort aware of it? If so is it his order? Is Snape trying to remain in favour with Voldemort – and Malfoy? Malfoy very powerful, influential._

_Is business amicable? Financial? Personal? How intimate are they??_

The list of questions seemed endless. Suddenly Hermione took up the paper and set fire to it with her wand, watched it burn for a few seconds and then tossed it onto the stone floor by the fireplace.

There was no way she'd be able to plan her investigation. So much depended on Snape's reactions, and Dumbledore's kindness – she would not be able to push him too far, she knew. The best way of beginning would be simply to spend time talking to Snape and to try and tease it out of him. If that failed, perhaps she would take more dramatic measures.

Hermione stood and scattered the ashes across the floor with her bare foot. 'Right,' she said aloud. 'Let's go and find Snape.'

*****

'What is it that you have planned, Lucius?'

Lucius swallowed. 'It's only a vague idea, my Lord, but …' He leaned forward towards his Master, and spoke harshly. 'What she did needs to be punished. I _shall_ find Hermione, and she _will_ pay.'

Voldemort raised a thin hand. 'Calm yourself, Lucius. Remember that you have to be emotionally unattached for any damage you do to be fully effective. I can see that you are still very affected by her, although your tender feelings have been wiped away. You need to be prepared to do anything.'

Lucius swallowed again. 'Yes, my Lord.'

'Do you know where the girl is?'

'I'm afraid not, my Lord. I've been told that she was seen heading for Europe, but in fact returned only a few hours later. My source did not know where she went next ... but …'

'You have your suspicions?'

'I do, my Lord,' Lucius said earnestly. 'There are only a few places where Hermione might be totally safe. Or where she might believe herself to be totally safe. If she were not aware of our omnipresent control.'

A sly smile spread across Voldemort's face. 'Severus can be a useful tool, can't he?'

'Oh, yes, my Lord.' Lucius returned the smile. '_Very_ useful.'

*****

'Miss Granger.' Snape held out a hand.

'Severus,' Hermione replied pleasantly, taking his hand. 'How are you?'

He nodded. 'Fine. Yourself?'

_This _is_ friendly,_ she thought sardonically. 'Oh, yes …' She lowered her voice, aware of the other staff around her. 'Well, as good as can be expected, I suppose.'

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were suddenly remembering something. Finally he nodded, and stepped away, leaving Hermione to be exclaimed over by the other teachers.

'Hermione! You've come back!'

'I hope this is a leisure call – not extending your little detective work to the school as well, are you?'

Hermione forced a smile to Professor Vector, shivering a little at the irony. She allowed herself to be seated in one of the large staff room chairs, and dosed with hot tea, while she was chattered to simultaneously by Vector, Flitwick and McGonagall. Most seemed overjoyed to see her.

Snape sat apart from the others, apparently reading a heavy book, but too many times his eyes flickered up to her face. Simmering there was a mixture of amusement and disgust at his colleagues, and the same thoughtfulness he had shown before. He was certainly wondering something. Then, abruptly, he left the staff room, although few except Hermione noticed.

Perhaps now was her chance. She too stood. 'I – I wonder if I could just pay a visit to the Gryffindor tower? Just to see it's still there?'

Minerva nodded. 'Yes … now would probably be a good time, actually – I think they're at Remus' duelling club. It's so popular he has to run it at different times for different houses. Do you want me to come with you?'

Hermione shook her head and smiled, lowering her eyes as if to imply something personal. 'No, it's fine. Am I allowed to know the password?'

Minerva almost laughed, and then quickly restrained herself before muttering: 'Lusty Lockhart.'

'What?' Hermione exclaimed. 'I'm not sure I approve of this …' She held Minerva's eyes  in mock seriousness for a few seconds before the two of them were overcome with mirth. They laughed for several minutes, attracting attention from the rest of the staff.

'What's so funny?'

The two women shook their heads.

'It doesn't matter, anyway,' Minerva explained. 'None of them remember him, and it amuses the Gryffindor staff. Besides, he always was a bit of a joke. The students thought he was bad, but you should have heard him in here in the evenings. Best entertainment I'd had for years.'

Hermione wiped the tears of amusement from her eyes and finally left, heading for the common room. Minerva had provoked an actual desire to see it, and to try this ridiculous password. Snape could wait until later.

'Miss Granger!' As if on cue, his voice echoed in the dimming corridor.

Snape came striding behind her, and drew level, his black robes flying behind him. Hermione did not stop walking, secretly quite pleased to see him. Now she needn't feel guilty about not beginning her mission. 'Hello again, Severus.'

'What are you doing here?' he asked coldly.

Hermione had to almost run to keep up with him. 'What do you mean?'

'You told me you were going to see Potter in France. Why didn't you go?'

'I _did_.' Hermione sighed. 'It didn't work out.'

'Ah,' Snape sneered. 'Lovers' tiff, was it?'

He really was astonishing in his level of perception. If it had been him, Hermione would never have been able to work out the reason. 'If you must know, Severus,' she said quietly, 'then yes, it was. I came here to see everyone again.'

'And to hide.'

Hermione was silent. Without revealing her true reason for being here, there was no way she could escape this.

'I suppose so,' she said finally. 'I need some rest and comfort for a while. Let things cool down for a bit.'

Snape snorted. 'If you say so, Miss Granger.'

Then he stopped, and turned on her, tall against the torches. '_Don't_ make the mistake of thinking you're safe from Lucius here, though,' he said in a low voice. 'I know you're cleverer than that. They've infiltrated Hogwarts before, you know. True, they had Draco to help them, but I have no doubt that they could manage it again, if they had to. Don't forget that all it takes is one tiny spark of suspicion for them to force Veritaseum down _my_ throat and find out _everything_. Voldemort won't do it unless I stop being useful – it damages the bond between us - but if that happens, we'll both be annihilated, and personally I'd rather keep my neck. So don't get in my way, Miss Granger. Don't be ostentatious about your presence here. You might find yourself unexpectedly expelled from the castle.' He made as if to leave, and then added: 'As, I seem to remember, I originally predicted.'

Then he disappeared into the gloom.

Hermione stood for a while until her breathing had slowed again. That had not gone well.

Snape had seemed almost to be … to be _threatening_ her.

She had not anticipated his hostility at all, although she supposed it was fairly reasonable. The Ministry would not forgive her if she ruined Snape's double-dealing – at the moment it was the most useful tool they had against the Death Eaters. She doubted Dumbledore would forgive her either, especially if Snape turned out to be completely innocent.

Luckily he seemed not to have suspected what her aim at Hogwarts was, or that would have made things harder still. It was unlikely now that he'd submit to any form of questioning, although technically she had the right to do it as she was of superior clearance in her department. And Snape, it had to be admitted, was a Death Eater. Hermione and the DEID's work was totally legitimate as far as his investigation was concerned.

Hermione hurried the rest of the way to the common room. The password did not seem half as funny now. She remembered instead Lockhart's fraud, his incompetence, the ignorance which had lost Harry the bones in his arm and the cold-bloodedness with which he had nearly allowed Ginny to die. The world was a dark, dark place.

She sat for a while by the fire in the warm but deserted room, thinking, trying to organise her thoughts.

What concerned her straightaway was that she feared Snape was right. Lucius could probably get quite easily into Hogwarts. No doubt he had an Invisibility Cloak, and the windows of her room were not that secure. If Lucius knew she was here, she could not be completely safe. There was, in fact, nowhere where she was completely safe.

Her next thought, quickly overriding, was her worries about Snape. Hermione's being at Hogwarts surely could not cause any suspicion among the Death Eaters about his loyalty, could it? No more than usual, anyway. Not to the extent of giving him Veritaseum. Was there another reason that he was so annoyed with her? Had his opinion of her been diminished by her actions? Was that it? Or was it that she was, as he put it, 'getting in his way?' In the way of what? His deceit of Hogwarts?

Not for the first time, Hermione considered vaguely the possibility of getting a Pensieve.

*****

Hermione awoke suddenly as the room began to fill with chattering students. At first they hung back from her, frightened and confused, but she quickly explained who she was, and when a couple of the older ones had verified that Hermione Granger did exist, and was a friend of Harry Potter's, then they were more confident, even friendly.

'Miss Granger?' A boy of about fourteen stepped forward shyly.

Hermione turned towards him. 'Yes?'

'Are we -' The boy stopped, and made to turn away, but was pushed forward again by students standing behind him. He swallowed, and started again. 'Are we winning the war?'

Unexpectedly Hermione's eyes filled with tears. This boy had done nothing wrong. There was no reason why the war should affect him, why he should have to stand in fear that his family, or his friends, or even his teachers, might be attacked at any minute. Voldemort had no right to damage innocent lives like this.

'I don't know,' she answered honestly. 'I'm sorry, I really don't know.'

'Is Harry Potter still alive?'

Hermione was rather startled by this. 'Yes, of course. What reason would you have to think he wasn't?'

The boy looked rather relieved. Then he lowered his eyes, and scuffed a foot along the floor. 'Well,' he said slowly. 'There are rumours. The Slytherins say a lot of things. They're trying to make us panic, they're trying to make us think we're losing.' His voice grew louder, higher. 'They've always done it, always made fun of us and insulted us and tried to make out they're better than us … I hate it, and I hate them!'

She looked into his face, proud and earnest and pale, and sighed. 'What's your name?' she asked.

'Matthew MacCulloch.'

Hermione understood. The boy's father, Gerry MacCulloch, was a senior in the Ministry, and extremely anti-Slytherin.

'I don't know what your father has told you, Matthew, but you can't hate the Slytherins. You can't just lay all the blame on them. It isn't anywhere near as simple as that. In some ways our side is responsible too. You hate them because they're ruining our lives and they're proud of it, but they're just trying to cover up the fact that among them are Slytherins who have lost parents, siblings, relatives, friends, children … their lives are being ruined too. The Slytherins – or at least some Slytherins – may be cruel, and crueller than our side, too, but they can feel pain and grief. They want an end to it all as much as you do. They're all human.'

Suddenly she realised that almost every student in the room was listening to her. She lowered her eyes. 'I'm sorry – I didn't mean that to sound like a lecture. But you all have much more in common than you think.'

Hastily she rose, feeling her cheeks begin to colour in embarrassment. Surely she had just made a fool of herself, speaking in favour of the Slytherins, and of Voldemort's followers? 'I'll see you at supper,' she muttered, and stepped through the portrait hole into the cool, dark corridor.

She leaned against the stone, solid beneath her, old and experienced. 'God, what must they think of me?' she murmured. 'What kind of an Auror am I if I can pity the Slytherins?'

'A compassionate Auror.'

She turned her head. Dumbledore was standing tall and still and calm a little way along the corridor. 'That was a very decent thing you did, Hermione,' he said quietly.

She sighed again. 'I just – I just thought it was unfair. They haven't thought about that side of it before, and … and I wanted to make them see.'

'And you're right,' Dumbledore said. Then he smiled. 'Although I think it may have been rather unexpected for some of them.

'I think there are few people who look at the war like that, Hermione. Most see it simply as "us" and "them". But I've seen their suffering – it's on both sides. It's good to know there are other people who understand that. I'm glad you're here if you'll be able to help them.'

Hermione did not know whether he meant it, but suddenly she felt a little guilty. 'I'm being silly, aren't I?' she said. 'Investigating someone on our side when I should be trying to help to end this war.'

Dumbledore looked at her gravely. 'You do what you have to do, Hermione. If you're right about Severus, then your presence here is even more crucial. Even if he is still loyal, you're welcome anyway.'

She smiled, and then realised it was nearly time for supper. 'I'd better go and change,' she said. 'Thanks, though. I was beginning to feel rather paranoid.'

With that, she left Dumbledore, who watched her go thoughtfully.

*****

A/N: Alrightey, the story's moving again. I've got ideas for the rest of the plot now, so … hopefully it'll go a bit faster now. Please review – it'd be nice to know that there are still people reading this.

~SS~


	5. The TimeTaking

A/N: Thank you to Organised Chaos for pointing out that the chapters were all in the wrong order … I really don't know how it happened, but hopefully it's all sorted out now. I'm also sorry about not posting. I've been having some writer's block, some problems too complicated to explain, some losing of faith in the story as a whole … the reasons go on. But I think this story deserves some kind of ending. So we go on.

*****

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT 

Chapter 5 

Dumbledore had made sure, somehow, that Hermione was seated next to Snape at dinner. Snape raised an eyebrow when she settled herself rather nervously next to him, but otherwise said nothing. It was up to her to start the conversation, and … he would easily see through any vagueness. She had to be direct, but misleading.

'Severus … when did you last go to Voldemort? I mean, when were you last summoned?' It was a place to begin, at least.

Snape considered. 'I haven't been summoned for a while. Not since … late December, I suppose. End of Christmas holidays. Why do you ask?'

'I was just wondering if we'd heard anything new about your – their tactics.'

'No.'

There was a pause.

'Nothing?' she pushed. 'Surely that's a little dangerous, Severus … they could be planning an attack or something.'

'They're not,' Snape replied shortly, digging his fork into his carrots.

'How do you know?'

He was still for a moment, and then said, 'I do talk to his followers outside the meetings, you know.'

'Ah yes,' she said quietly. 'Lucius, of course … who else?' She did not want to focus too heavily on Lucius just yet, although it was not irrelevant to her. 

She was hungry for information about him – he was an addictive source of interest even when he was not there. It was strange to think it was only a few days since she had last seen him – it seemed like weeks ago - and suddenly she missed him. She missed her routine of going downstairs to the pub and watching him, watching him watching her, all evening. It had been flattering, exciting, tense, unpredictable, everything Hermione lived to experience, and she missed it.

She even remembered a few evenings going upstairs wondering what it would be like if silently, wordlessly, he had come into her room and into her bed, and nothing more had been said. Now it had happened, albeit slightly differently, and everything had changed.

God, Hermione, you still want him. 

Yes. She realised then that more than anything, she wanted – needed - another night with Lucius. Her mind swept back to what had happened when they had eventually stopped talking, in his room …

… his back arched over her, his silver-blonde hair fell down in tousled, ungroomed waves, his sweat rubbed against her legs, so tightly wrapped around him, as his breath came ragged and heavy …

God, Lucius.

'Miss Granger?' Snape's voice brought her back to the present. Had she been daydreaming about sex, sex with Lucius Malfoy, in front of the staff and all the students?

'Did you even hear what I was telling you?'

'No,' she admitted. 'I'm sorry. I was just … remembering what it was like to be a student here, that's all.'

Snape nodded with evident, patronizing disbelief. 'As I was saying, Lucius is probably the only person I talk to regularly. He's my main – my source of information. He's close to Voldemort, very close, so it's a good connection. And the last time I saw Lucius was just after I met you at the Leaky Cauldron. We communicate by owl, too, sometimes. I think if – if he _does_ try to attack you, that could be the only way we find out about it.'

Hermione nodded. She was cursing herself for missing what Severus had said – had he mentioned anything about Lucius that she hadn't heard?

'Are you close? I mean, does he think you're good friends?'

Snape hesitated, and then shrugged. 'We've known each other for a long time,' he said by way of explanation.

'But do you think he suspects about you?' Hermione asked.

'No.'

'How can you be sure?'

'Miss Granger -' His voice rose dangerously, and he did not speak until he had regained control. 'For one thing, I'm a much better liar than you. I've had more practice. And I _know_ Lucius. He's not subtle. If he suspected, he'd tell me. Or he'd warn be, to be more accurate. Voldemort values me, and he knows it, so I don't think he'd challenge me immediately if there was a chance I could be made loyal again.' He shrugged again. 'It's rather complicated.'

'Would you …' Hermione tried to phrase her question delicately, sensing that he was growing a little impatient. Already he had talked more than usual, and he probably wouldn't appreciate more close questioning. She inhaled carefully. 'If it came to it, Severus … would you be able to kill him?'

'Yes.' His eyes were steady, slightly sad, but determined, and he did not hesitate.

She had no idea whether or not he was lying.

*****

After supper, Hermione went back to her room and threw herself down onto her bed. That had been close. Dreaming about Lucius …

… dreaming of her voice, murmuring his name in the darkness, his lips becoming more violent, moaning on her neck, and the satisfaction she had felt as she realised she had wanted this for months, since long before he had offered it … 

She shook herself so hard that her eye filled with tears. That would not help. She was against Lucius – she could not afford to lust after him again. She had thought she was free of him as soon as she had considered the possibility that he might retaliate against her, but now, suddenly, she wanted him again.

… his weight, the knowledge that he was not to be trusted, but that she could not help it, and now they were tangled together, their limbs hot, their hands desperate for each other …

She gave up, let her hands creep under her robes and resigned herself to the dreams and the memories.

*****

Hermione woke a few hours later, sated in body but not in spirit. More than anything she wanted someone with her … but Lucius was the enemy. _Shit_, she said silently. _I need a fuck_.

She glanced at her watch. It was half past eleven, and she was not really tired. Perhaps it would be as well to go for a short fly … but then again, it was February, and very cold. And if she was in any danger, and if Snape was right … no, she had better stay in her room.

'But I have to do something,' she said aloud, running a hand through her dishevelled hair. 'I have to do something about this obsession.'

Suddenly she went to her desk and found a clean piece of parchment and a quill. She began:

_Lucius,_

_It was only the night before last that we spent together, and already it feels like weeks, months. So much has happened, so much that you would not like or understand. But try as I might, I cannot forget you. Your love was the most satisfying and exhilarating I have ever experienced, and I need more of it. If I had known you were like this, like a drug, I would have thought much more carefully than I did about accepting you. I still cannot quite believe that I went through with it, and I forget my reasons, but then the memories overwhelm me and quite suddenly I remember. I miss you. You will never read this letter, but at this moment I feel that I desire you more than any woman has ever desired a man._

_Hermione._

With a movement that was almost becoming a habit, Hermione set light to the paper with her wand and let it fall. Then she went to her bed, undressed and slid under the covers.

When in the morning she woke, Hermione remembered nothing of her evening's activities, and did not even notice the ashes littering the floor near her desk.

*****

Snape seemed a little irritable at breakfast, although whether or not it was because Hermione was sitting next to him again she could not tell. He grunted a greeting to her.

'Sleep well?' she asked him politely.

'Not particularly.'

Hermione laughed. 'I can tell.'

Snape did not answer, but flicked his eyes upwards to the rafters of the Great Hall. Hermione masked a smile at his obvious exasperation.

She was still frustrated from the night before: the first thing she had thought of this morning was Lucius, and how much she wanted him. It was odd, how suddenly the thoughts of him had returned to her, and how much had been uncovered about her earlier fascination with him. It was coming in a huge flow, the memories of how much she had watched him when he was at Hogwarts, how she had barely been able to lift her young eyes from his. He had noticed her a couple of times, and her stomach had leaped, although he had often shot her a rather disgusted look. When she had been assigned the mission, she had felt a peculiar, pleasant anticipation, as if she had always been meant to follow this path. Now she remembered it all.

'Did _you_ sleep well, Miss Granger?' Snape asked sarcastically.

'Well, yes … I think so.' She could recall very little of last night, except her antagonised mood.

'Good.' He returned his eyes to the ceiling, and Hermione became a little curious. Was he watching something? Was he waiting for something?

'So … what was wrong with your night? Too much work? Too many potions to brew? Troublesome waxing of the moon?' If he was going to be snippy, so was she. She glanced at MacGonagall, who was smirking at the comment. Hermione prayed silently she had not heard any of the previous night's conversation, careful as they had been. 

'Frankly, Miss Granger,' Snape said quietly, 'it's none of your business.'

She wondered if he'd had the same problem as her. And raised her eyebrows at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

She watched his gaze shift back to the roof. The opening in the roof … the opening by which the owls entered! Was he waiting for a letter? Was she actually getting better at deciphering people's actions? Or was she overreacting; was he finding the ceiling particularly interesting because there were no thrills elsewhere?

There was a buzz from the students below, and Hermione glanced up to see the post owls arriving, soaring down through the vaults of air to land perfectly in front of their destination at the tables. She turned quickly towards Snape and saw that he too was watching the owls, his eyes darting between them. She had been right, then – he was searching for a particular bird.

Only one owl headed for the staff table, though, and settled expertly in front of MacGonagall, who took the letter, smoothed down its feathers and sent it across the Hall out to the owlery. 

Snape let out a breath silently next to Hermione, and then drained his goblet of water, got up and left the Great Hall. She watched his retreating, sulking back both with amusement and curiosity.

*****

Hermione hardly saw Snape for the rest of the day. He did not appear at lunchtime, and when she mentioned this briefly in the staff room after lessons had finished, he said tersely: 'I had things to do,' and retreated back to the dungeons.

The other teachers had their reasons to leave too: the Heads of house had a meeting with Dumbledore, the others had marking to do or wanted a nap. Hermione was left alone with Professor Vector. However, she had no objections to this. She and Vivienne had become fairly close in Hermione's last year or so of school. Partly because Hermione was the only student in her year who had taken Arithmancy to NEWT level, presumably. But Hermione had been able to vent some of her frustration about Harry and Ron to someone impartial, and had found a friend who could understand and advise her. Vivienne had revealed more about herself to Hermione than to any other student, and the age difference had seemed rather meaningless, even though Vivienne was nearly forty.

'So how are things at the Ministry?' Vivienne asked her.

Hermione hesitated. Much as she had anticipated this question, she was sad that he had to skim over the truth for her friend. 'Well – slightly hectic, mixed up, confused … exactly what you'd expect in times of war, I suppose.'

Vivienne laughed. 'Yes … I got the impression from Albus that things weren't very well organised there at the moment. I think he and Severus are both getting rather fed up with it.'

Ah, an opportunity to talk about Snape. They had not been able to talk about other staff while Hermione had been a student, of course, but now they could say more or less what they liked.

'Severus seems fed up with everything and everyone at the moment,' Hermione said carefully.

'That's true,' Vivienne agreed. 'He's not by nature a cheerful person, it has to be said, but at the moment he's _really_ in a bad mood. Just since the weekend, actually. Day before yesterday, when he got back from London, and ever since then. He's been snapping at everyone, keeping to himself …'

'It's not just me, then?' Hermione asked. 'I thought I'd offended him somehow.' _And I have._

'Well … he did look very sour when he was talking to you at breakfast, but I wouldn't have said it was you, particularly.'

'Hmm. You don't know why he's annoyed, then?'

'All I know is that it's something about what happened in London … there are rumours about it among the pupils already, but nothing solid. I don't even know how they've found out he went to London.'

'How do you find out about the rumours?' Hermione asked, startled.

Vivienne smiled mischievously. 'We have ways of keeping an eye on them, you know. But I'm not allowed to tell you … it's a staff secret. Albus disapproves, but we do it anyway. It amused us.'

'So what are these rumours?'

'The commonest – and the most unlikely, I think – is that it's of an amorous nature. That he had some affair with some woman who's now dumped him, along those lines.'

Hermione almost laughed, but then stopped at a smile when she realised that nothing could be discounted as a possibility.

'Snape doesn't know about them, does he?'

'I don't know. He's found out rumours about him before, so I wouldn't be surprised. I don't think he'd try and be more cheerful even if he had, though. He doesn't really think much of other people's opinions. I guess he has enough to think about as a Death Eater.'

'What do you think?' Hermione prompted.

'I don't really know.' Vivienne smiled again. 'I'd _like_ it to be amorous … I know Severus well enough to believe him capable – and deserving – of it. But he has a lot of secrets. I don't know. Albus makes sure the staff don't talk about each other behind their backs, at least not _to_ each other, so all I can tell you is what I know and what I think. Albus has also asked us not to question Severus too closely – he has much higher clearance than us, as do you, so there are obviously things we're not allowed to know.'

Hermione thought for a few minutes. Vivienne had certainly raised many new ideas, but then Hermione knew things that Vivienne did not, was able to pin down more certainties than Vivienne. All the evidence suggested that Snape's irritability had been started when he'd found out about Lucius and Hermione. With good reason, she supposed, since it had severely damaged their work. But she did not know what else Snape had done in London – it was possible that something more personal had happened. She could not dismiss the idea of a broken affair, no matter how absurd it seemed.

'You like Severus, don't you?' she asked Vivienne.

'I do,' Vivienne replied. 'He's refreshingly … cynical. Minerva and Albus are obsessed with the idea that everything will be all right eventually – they're older, so I suppose that's what keeps them going – but Severus is perfectly willing to consider that it won't. I side with him – he's seen what the Death Eaters do, and it frightens him, because it's possible and … and altogether likely that they'll do the same to him, eventually. He hasn't admitted it, of course, but it's fairly obvious. His eyes go darker when we're talking about it.

'Anyway, he's intelligent, he know a lot about – quite a lot, really. He's one of these knows-everything-about-everything people. But he's fairly unassuming when it comes to me – I've talked to him a bit about my problems, like when I was going through my divorce and things, and he was very good about it. He's totally arrogant in some ways, of course, and doesn't reveal anything about his emotions, and sometimes he pisses the hell out of me, but generally I do like him, yes. Once, I -'

Vivienne broke off, then spoke more quietly. 'When I first started to talk to him I thought for a while I was in love with him, but … he can be so repulsive and cruel, and … I don't trust him totally. I was younger then, more naïve. Anyway, _that's_ over now.'

Hermione was somehow not surprised by this last revelation. Snape was the sort of person who could draw someone easily almost without realising or meaning to, and in whom women especially seemed to be rather interested, curious. Perhaps it was because he seemed to be utterly solitary – he had no partner, as far as she knew, and until now she had heard nothing to suggest that he had any real friends.

She was happy that Vivienne was thick with Snape, though – she might prove an interesting connection to him. She made a mental note to herself that it might be useful.

Vivienne suddenly stopped talking about herself Severus, ran a hand through her short, dark brown hair, and said: 'February's a terrible time of year for the school, you know. There isn't any snow, but it's still bloody freezing, and there's a long time – months – 'till the Easter holidays.' She glanced at the clock, seeming rather embarrassed. 'Well, I'd better go and do some marking. I've got a girl who seems determined to fail her OWL, so I need to spend a bit of time working out while she's so bad at my subject.' She rose. 'I'll see you at supper, Hermione.'

Hermione nodded, and then instinctively stood too, and drew Vivienne to her in a crushing hug. 'Thanks for telling me all this … I'm flattered.'

Vivienne looked even more embarrassed. 'Don't mention it.'

*****

Snape was at supper, but looked as if he'd rather be anyway else. Hermione suspected that Dumbledore had 'encouraged' him to come up, and she smiled faintly. Evidently Albus was trying to help her a little, now she had proven herself worthy.

But Snape still seemed very out of sorts. He barely acknowledged Hermione, ate quickly and left as soon as he had finished without saying a word. It was almost as if he had never turned up at all, like at lunchtime.

Hermione caught Dumbledore's eye – they were slightly concerned, slightly sad – and shook her head in resignation. If Snape was determined to be antisocial, there was nothing she could do about it. But he was being secretive too, and it looked as if she was not going to be able to get anything out of him while he remained in this temper.

She began to worry that she was going to get extremely bored. Her quarry seemed to be doing his best to avoid her, and she had no other legitimate occupation. Perhaps she was going to have to push her mission forwards.

She wondered if Snape had received his letter – for she was sure he was expecting one. His gaze had rested too long on Minerva's owl at breakfast for him to be simply curious. No. He was waiting for something. And Hermione had a feeling she knew who it was from.

Lucius … 

'You all right, Hermione?' Remus Lupin leaned over Snape's empty place and smiled at her. Hermione smiled back, genuinely pleased to have an opportunity to talk to him. For one thing, he was the only person with equal clearance to her apart from Snape, who would not talk to her, and Dumbledore, who was somewhat patronizing at times. Hermione always had the feeling that she was being supremely stupid with Albus, whereas Remus knew her abilities and acknowledged them.

'I'm fine,' she said cheerfully. 'Getting used to having an empty seat on my right at meals.'

'Yes,' Remus agreed. 'He does seem rather … busy.' There was enough of a pause for Hermione to know that Remus did not believe Severus' excuses.

'Anyway,' Remus continued. 'How's the Ministry? How's – how's Lucius?'

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. _Shit, shit …_ Evidently Dumbledore had not thought to inform Remus.

She sighed. 'I gave up the investigation, Remus … it really wasn't working. _Really_.'

Remus raised a light brown eyebrow.

Hermione could see that she wasn't fooling him any more than Severus had. She sighed. 'Well, you know Lucius. Or at least you know of him.'

Remus nodded, his gaze steady. 'He seduced you, did he?' he murmured.

'Something like that.'

'And you're not going to explain any further?'

Hermione sighed again. 'I'd rather not, Remus, to be honest. It's quite complicated and Lucius and I would both sound like fools. Whereas in fact Lucius is a very intelligent man, and … well, I suppose I can't vouch for myself.'

'Hermione …' Remus passed a hand over his eyes. He looked much older than when Hermione had last seen him, many months ago. 'Hermione, everyone knows you're clever. You qualified to be an Auror almost two years earlier than most people do, and I don't care how hard you worked – it's you who made it happen. To get you in that sort of position Lucius must have done something rather … rather underhand.'

_He did, _Hermione told him silently. _He made me fall in love with him._

*****

A/N: I've had to cut the end of this chapter off, if I'm honest, because I think it was starting to drag a little and because I think the ending I have on it now is much better. The rest of the material will be in the next chapter, but … please read and review! It's the reviews that keep me going – the ones from Organised Chaos really jumpstarted me. (I'm not obsessed with you or anything but you did help a lot – and yes, Lucius is a sexy beast!!). Ta.

~SS~


	6. The Agony

A/N: Ok … I've been spending ages trying to sort out the formatting on this and other chapters. You may have noticed that some of the stuff that should be in italics isn't, and sometimes vice versa. I apologise profusely for this but I haven't got time to launch a full-scale attack on it, and I don't really want to go further than editing the HTML source in Word, which is what I've been trying. Ah well. Never mind.

On with the story.

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT

Chapter 6

Another restless, or semi-restless, night later, and Hermione found herself at breakfast, shading her eyes from the sun filtering in through the windows, wondering whether Snape would turn up. The staff seemed rather resigned to his absence, and Hermione got the feeling this was something that happened a lot. Only Dumbledore was alert, and she knew it was because she had made him suspicious. Snape was naturally a solitary person, but to actively appear to avoid Hermione was not a good sign.

Snape did turn up, though, surprising everyone. Afterwards, Hermione realised that she should have predicted it.

'Good morning, Severus.'

'Miss Granger.'

_Ah, we have words this time_.

'Did you finish whatever it was you were doing last night?' she asked.

'Mm.'

High hopes.

Hermione flickered her eyebrows in annoyance, and turned back to Vivienne, who had cunningly seated herself on Hermione's other side. 'Honestly,' she muttered.

'Don't worry about him,' Vivienne replied softly. 'He's probably hiding the fact that he's bloody horny and he doesn't want people to notice.' She smiled faintly, enough to send Hermione into gales of laughter.

Snape gave the two women a sideways glance – briefly, but his eyes rested on Hermione long enough for her to see his contempt. She didn't know whether he'd heard Vivienne's words, and hoped fervently he hadn't. If he had, then whatever respect he'd had for Hermione would have vanished. Along with any for Vivienne, too.

Suddenly – right on time - there was a great whirring, a churn of wings, and from the top corner of the Great Hall scattered dozens of owls. 

Straightaway Hermione's eyes searched the owls, glanced at Snape, saw that he was watching them too. Watching intensely, and … yes, he was holding his breath.

Did she dare?

Well, she was an Auror.

'Expecting something, Severus?' she said. 

Snape merely raised a dark eyebrow, a twinge of a smile on his lips at her audacity. 'We'll see, won't we?' he murmured.

As if on cue, a thick, lush white envelope dropped into Snape's lap, and he jolted, his face stark and keen. His long fingers seized it, almost violently, but not quite. There was a gentleness in the way he was handling the letter, and it struck and intrigued Hermione even more than his eagerness had. 

More than anything she wanted to know who the letter was from. But he had his hand carefully over the writing on the envelope.

Then he looked up, his sharp eyes searching the Hall until he located what he was looking for. Hermione followed his gaze until she spotted the large grey owl circling above the Slytherin table. Ever so slightly, Snape nodded to the owl, and the creature spread its wings and was gone in a brush of feathers.

Hermione cleared her throat quietly. 'It would appear, Severus, that -'

But Snape was halfway towards the door, fingers already ripping the envelope open. He slipped from the Hall, barely observed except by Hermione and Vivienne.

She smiled a little wryly. 'It would appear,' she said under her breath, 'that Snape's letter has arrived.'

*****

Hermione spent much of the morning lazing around, vaguely making a few notes about the letter. She was deliberating over the possibility of breaking into Snape's room to read the letter, and wondering whether she dared. It seemed like a ridiculously paranoid thing to do, but Hermione's curiosity was intense when fired, and at that moment she wanted to see the letter more than anything. Except perhaps, to see Lucius. 

Unexpectedly, at about eleven in the morning, an express owl arrived for Hermione, while she was dithering over the Daily Prophet in her room, with a cup of tea. It was from the Ministry of Magic.

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, asks that you attend an urgent meeting with him tomorrow, Tuesday, in his office in London, at nine o'clock in the morning. He requests that you do nothing precipitous before then.

Hermione crumpled the letter and groaned. Cornelius Fudge, the master of timing. Just when Snape had his letter and just when she was about to try to discover it, to find out who it was from and what it contained, Hermione was being taken away from her investigation. 

Of course, she had to go. It would not put her in a good position with the Ministry to refuse; it was even possible she would lose her job if she did. 

Still … if she had to go to London, she might as well make the most of it. Her office probably needed checking, in case there were any important reports from the other Aurors. Harry had promised to send her an update on his work in Europe. Ron – well, she couldn't hope for anything, but there was always a chance. She needed to catch up with her colleagues on the various investigations in progress, see if anything could be fitted into place, see if anyone had been apprehended or if anything had been discovered. 

Hermione decided quickly to go to London that day, and to stay the night. It would give her time, make it less hassled. Yes.

Oh, don't be stupid, Hermione. You know perfectly well that anything urgent would have reached you here. Why don't you admit the real reason you want to go to London?

She sighed. Of course … it was because Lucius was in London. Lucius would be at the Ministry. The more time she spent at the Ministry, the likelier it was that she would see Lucius.

_Hermione, why did you think you'd be able to fool yourself?_

There was no denying the possibility of seeing Lucius. She might even get to talk to him, and if one thing led to another (as she dearly hoped it might), her yearning over the past few days might be – 

But then, Snape was sure that Lucius wanted revenge … if there was a chance he was going to be hostile, did she really want to be in London alone?

It was a terrible situation. But Hermione wanted so much to catch a glimpse of the man who had given her such satisfaction … the same man who had placed her in such trouble. The man who had claimed he loved her, and then set about getting revenge.

To say her feelings about Lucius were confused was, perhaps, the understatement of the century. She feared him, yes, but she knew she loved him in more than one way, and her physical need for him was unmistakeable.

Oh dear.

No, she had to go. She was an Auror. The whole point of the job was that she could take care of herself. 

Well, wand at the ready, then. A dangerous operation. She had not had anything with real, known risk attached to it for months, although only she really knew how dangerous it was. Only she knew the extent to which he believed she had betrayed him. She could not refuse simply because she was scared. It was her job.

But she knew it was not only the danger that was frightening her. She had fought for her life before and been less terrified. No. It was the prospect of being attacked by the man she loved and wanted. It was the prospect of being betrayed, or having to betray, against love. It was the uncertainty.

Well, you wanted romance, Hermione, after all. Perhaps now you have it. A relationship where you don't even know if the man loves you? Not a relationship, exactly, but romance is uncertainty.

Hermione smiled slightly, ruefully. It was true. This was, in a way, what she had wanted … but she'd never imagined or desired it to be like this. To feel as endangered, to be as frightened.

She set her jaw. There was no use thinking about it like that. Things had to continue, like it had never happened. 

She would leave in one hour at the latest, and if she saw Lucius … well, then she'd see.

*****

It took less than a minute to explain to Dumbledore her leaving Hogwarts, and even less to Vivienne, since there was less she was allowed to tell, and so reluctantly Hermione made her way down to the dungeons to tell Snape. It was dark, cold, being February, and it seemed particularly disturbing today. Hermione found herself shying away from stains and shadows on the walls that as a student she would have probably not even noticed.

The dungeons were full of third-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. As Hermione crossed the room, she recognised Matthew MacCulloch, who gave her a brief, acknowledging smile whilst stirring his cauldron carefully. Evidently her little lecture had made him wary but not unfriendly.

Then she turned her attention to Snape. He gave no indication of having noticed her, and was snarling at a pair of Gryffindor girls whose cauldron was hissing violently, almost echoing his words. They were cowering, barely holding back tears, but then spotted Hermione behind Snape and sighed in relief.

'What was that?' Snape growled at them.

Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. 'Good morning, Professor.'

Snape turned and looked at her, and his eyes grew alert, feline, curious. 'What do you want?'

'I just need a brief word.'

In his office she detailed her summons to London. Snape listened without emotion, but understood exactly what she meant. 'You're afraid you'll see Lucius?' he asked shortly.

'Is it likely?' she replied.

Snape nodded slowly. 'Yes,' he said,' it is quite likely. He'll be at the Ministry, I assume, and if that's where you're headed … yes, I think it very possible that you'll meet.'

Hermione paused. Proud as she was, Snape was more experienced, and he knew Lucius. 'Do you have any advice?' she asked finally.

A momentary smile creased Snape's lips. 'I wonder how long I am going to have to keep telling you this, Miss Granger. All I can say is: go carefully.'

'Nothing else?' Her voice was rather scornful, but in fact Hermione was trying to hide her mounting disappointment and panic.

'Nothing else. You're an Auror. Do your bloody job.'

He turned away, and Hermione realised, probably too late, that the meeting was over. 'Thanks anyway,' she muttered, before sweeping from the room.

*****

Two hours later, Hermione was in Diagon Alley, having been comfortably installed in the Leaky Cauldron, made a shopping list and allowed herself some freedom. 

She glanced at the list. 

Second wand: check. 

Parchment and ink: check. 

Sneakoscope (_how childish_, she thought): check. 

Books.

She sighed in relief. Flourish and Blotts was easily her favourite place in wizarding London – the childhood love of books had not even faded, despite her new action-packed status, and she had much to owe to them. After all, it was the books that had helped her become an Auror perhaps two years faster than most candidates. Extra study at night, written tests, and soon she had been way ahead, soaring into the Ministry with curses and hexes on the tip of her tongue. Yes. Books had made it easy.

She closed the door to the bustling street outside, stood for a moment to relish the quietness, and waved to the shopkeeper, Tony. He had gotten to know her well over the past few years, and it was a habitual joke to tease her about her bookish tendencies.

'Back again, eh, Hermione?' he smiled.

Hermione grinned back. 'You know I can't keep away.' She looked around. The shop was deserted, and the books stood grandly, silently in their bindings, waiting to be touched. How anybody could walk straight past the shop and not go in to rustle those delicate pages, to drink in the beauty of dry ink on paper, to bask in that pool of knowledge, was quite beyond her.

She moved quickly along the shelves, selecting the books she had not seen before. _Has Voldemort really returned?_ read the title of one, and a flicker of a sardonic smile brushed her face. She ignored it – it was likely to be an official, edited account, and the Ministry were very careful about censoring anything that could harm their strategies. But she grabbed three other books: _Messing with Wizard Psychology, _ a rather thick book called _Seeing Without Being Seen_: _An Advanced Guide for Would-Be Sneaks_ (thinking it might be rather useful for snooping, although there'd be little she didn't know), and _Fighting a Losing Battle_: _Staying Alive As Long As You Can_. The latter, she had to admit, drew her because of its rather morbid title, but it seemed appropriate for the situation the wizarding world was now in.

She struggled upstairs with the books, where on the gallery was a small seating area for perusing and waiting, as well as some of the more obscure books. As she settled into an armchair, Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds. God, she needed a rest. A rest for a few minutes, just to let her mind drift, to shut out all thoughts of Lucius or the Ministry or Snape, or …

*****

Hermione was woken by voices in the shop, floating up to her hidden little spot from the shop below. 

'Right … what are you looking for, Phillippa?' It was a man's voice, downstairs.

A girl's voice replied, soft and rather incomprehensible to Hermione in her half-asleep state. 

She shook herself groggily and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself up. She had a niggling feeling that she should know who was in the shop but her mind was not working clearly enough to recognise the tones.

'Good … have you got those, Tony?'

Hermione froze. Painfully slowly, she turned towards the edge of the gallery, eyes wide.

For that, she knew, as clearly as if he was standing in front of her, was the crystalline voice of Lucius Malfoy.

Quietly, on stealthy feet, she rose from the chair and crept to the edge of the gallery to peer down, breathless in anticipation. 'Oh, my God …' she murmured.

It was him. He had not seen her, but was talking to Tony in a low voice. He looked no different. He was still rather tall, still gave off the same impression of hard authority, even at a distance, and … Hermione was only glad she could not see his eyes, for to bring back the memories of their stare as she had felt it so many times was to fall back into the ocean.

Suddenly a girl of about eighteen emerged from behind a shelf, clutching a book, and Hermione remembered the feminine voice. 'Here it is.'

'Excellent, my dear,' Lucius replied, and took the book. 'We'll have these, then. Wrapped, if you please.'

'Right, sir.' Tony disappeared into the back of the shop to wrap the books, leaving only Lucius and the girl, who immediately turned to each other.

'It's so good of you to get me these books, Mr Malfoy,' the girl said, looking slightly sideways and smiling slightly. Hermione's mind was frantic, suddenly – she knew the girl, she was sure, but _who was she?_

'It's a pleasure, my dear,' Lucius said smoothly, the same silken quality to his voice as he had used with Hermione. 'I'm always glad to … be of service.' 

He raised an elegant, gentle hand and brushed it over the girl's cheek and neck.

Hermione gasped, too loudly for her own safety, and backed away suddenly from the edge, out of sight to the couple if they looked up. 

Lucius was – he was – 

Oh, God. She sank to the floor silently, mouth open in dismay. No. 

They were _together_.

Lucius' voice sounded again from downstairs. 'Thank you, Tony.' There was the metal chink of coins being idly poured between hands. 'Keep the change.'

'Thank you very much indeed, sir … good day to you. And to you, miss.'

Quickly Hermione stepped to the edge again and watched them leave, hand in hand. The girl was smiling, eyes happy, naughty, and suddenly Hermione recognised her. Her name was Phillippa diMarco, and she was a seventh-year Slytherin, known for her experience with men and lack of any hard work at all. From what Hermione had heard and witnessed at Hogwarts, Lucius was just what Phillippa liked, and Hermione's lip curled in disgust. Phillippa was so young … barely eighteen, if even that, and she was –

She was probably in London for the research trip seventh-years took, just after they'd started their final projects. Phillippa seemed to actually be looking for books, which was contrary to what Hermione remembered of her, but perhaps it was simply a way of wrapping Lucius around her finger. And it seemed to be working – Lucius had obviously been fairly keen to please her.

Hermione sat for quite some time on the floor of Flourish and Blotts, trying to make sense of what she had just seen. How could he simply go off with someone else? How could he – surely, if what he had said to her when they had made love had been true – and she was so certain it had been – then …

She did not even want to consider it.

The books on the armchair were looking even more inviting, and Hermione snatched up the first of the pile: _Messing with Wizard Psychology_. 

She turned to the contents.

_1 - Muggle Psychological Theory_

_2 – Basic Rules of Wizard Mind Charms_

_3 – Emotions of the Heart and Love Potions_

_4 –_

She looked no further, and straightaway flipped to chapter three.

Muggle psychologists, writers, poets and scientists have been puzzling for centuries over the complexities of human relationships, and wizard emotions are no less complicated. The feelings we have for other people are many-layered and unique depending on the person's personality and emotional makeup. Hence, any spells or potions altering a wizard's emotions cannot have the same effect on any two people, and may produce results quite different to what was intended.

Love Potions have long been a part of wizard society, but there is great doubt as to whether they actually work, and most professional wizards have refused to even research it. However, even if they do, it is rarely helpful to use them. Muggle literature is full of examples of people who use tricks to make others love them, and the chaos that has resulted. Shakespeare, one of the most famous Muggle poets and playwrights, includes in A Midsummer Night's Dream the story of Titania, the fairy queen, who falls in love with a man with a donkey's head after being administered a potion which will cause her to fall in love with the first thing she sees. Although this is rather fantastical, it nonetheless forms a valid point. Much of the time, the results of Love Potions are often surprising and completely unwanted.

Hermione sighed and leaned backwards. It was not a subject that interested her enough to tear her mind away from what she had just witnessed. Try as her mind might, it could not squirm out of reach of the fact that was staring her bold in the face: Lucius Malfoy had found satisfaction in the arms of another.

Tears began to fill her eyes, making the room swirl, until she could see nothing for blurs, and then rolled from under her eyelashes to trace their solemn path down her face. Her whole body was tense, seizing up, building to an enormous, hopeless burst of emotion, and Hermione was powerless to stop it, not to even murmur a soundproof charm so no one could hear her.

The wall, and her body, broke, and she let out a wail of agony, unable to make any sound loud or poignant enough to release her grief all at once. 

'Hermione?' Tony called from below the gallery. 'You all right?'

Hermione could not answer. She could barely draw breath, could barely see anything but her own sorrow, could not move from her slumped position on the floor.

There was the sound of footsteps, and suddenly Tony was crouching beside her. 'What's wrong?'

She shook her head, body aching and trembling with the effort it took not to scream until her throat was torn out. Tony wrapped his arms around her, sinewy with years of lifting heavy books, and Hermione burrowed into them, crying violently, sobbing as if she would never stop.

'There, lass … it's all right …' Tony rubbed her back, patted her, smoothed her hair while her eyes poured tears onto his brown robe, an image in her mind all the time of Lucius, his back to her and his hand on Phillippa's cheek. She remembered the way he had looked at her while she was watching him in the Cauldron, she remembered how he had smiled when she had realised she was in love with him. Every single memory she had of Lucius flooded through her mind, drenching it in his essence, his voice, his eyes, and it was unbearable, and it seemed never to end …

It seemed an age later that she was finally able to control herself, and stood up, shaking slightly. 'Thanks … I'm … I'm all right, Tony. Thank you. I think I'd – I'll go back to the Leaky Cauldron …'

Tony's eyes searched her face. 'You sure you don't want to tell me what's wrong?'

She shook her head, her eyes on the floor, her breathing still hard and irregular. 'I can't … I'm sorry. Thank you so much … I'll come and see you tomorrow.'

Then she turned, and left the shop, back to the Leaky Cauldron, where she sprinted up to her room, collapsed on her bed and lay motionless.

*****

Lucius had seen Hermione – or sensed her, at least – as soon as she had moved to the edge of the gallery. He had watched her watching him from the corner of his eye, and his heart had shrunk away as the recognition and the memory threatened to engulf him. His hand had trembled ever so slightly as he had raised it to Phillippa's cheek, knowing he was about to hurt her so badly, trying desperately to recall everything Voldemort had said to him, trying to forget that he loved … had once … loved her.

It had been returning. Slowly, imperceptibly, his feelings for her had seeped back into his consciousness. Voldemort's charm had been merely temporary, it seemed, and the love had not been banished. He should have known it. Within a day after he had sent the letter to Severus, she had been 'Hermione' again in his mind. He had tried, tried so hard to stop himself thinking about her, but the anger had grown, and had suddenly shattered in shards of glass to reveal what it had been hiding: his love for Hermione, as strong as before.

When he had found out she was in London, he had had to resist the sudden, piercing urge to run and find her. He had met Phillippa as he had planned, even more desperate to be rid of the poisonous thoughts. But messing with wizard psychology, as he had discovered, simply did not work.

*****

A/N: Hee hee hee … please review!


	7. The Indecision

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT

Chapter 7

Phillippa loomed over her, a dark needle against the rising sun. 'Give him up, Hermione,' she snarled, and her eyes flared with fire.

Hermione cowered back into the bed, but she could not turn away. Everywhere hands held her down, and they were Lucius' hands, all of them, gripping and at the same time caressing, and Phillippa showed her teeth in a smile.

The light dimmed. The sun rose in the dark, globe of fire in hell.

'You'll never have him. He loves me. Me … me …'

Hermione could feel Lucius all about her, knew his fingers were on her skin, but she could see him nowhere. He said nothing.

'Me …' The whisper went on, breathing its hatred deep into her mind, chilling her body. Phillippa held up a knife. 'Lucius, would you like to do the honours?'

There were footsteps. The hands did not move. Hermione heard him approach, felt the figure above her, but it was too dark to see him.

And the voice. The voice that so many times she had longed to hear, that had made her shiver. Deep, rich, and echoing against Phillippa's triumphant smile. 

'Any last words, Mudblood?'

She tried to gasp 'Lucius,' but she could not speak, and the faceless figure raised his wand, Phillippa at his side, still smiling. The sun was fading, and everything was so cold, so faded …

Hermione woke, coughed, gasped, sat up. 

She inhaled sweet air, and sat wide-eyed and terrified. It was quiet.

Then she remembered it all, and trembled, in the noise of sorry night.

*****

She woke as the faded light seeped in through the curtains. She opened her eyes, as peacefully as a baby. It was morning. Morning was safe.

And yet still her body was shaking.

She could remember her dream as clearly as if it had really happened, only a minute ago. It had frightened her. It had frightened her perhaps more than anything she had experienced over the past week. 

Lucius had been there, and she could not see him, and he had been ready to kill her, and …

'Merlin,' she breathed, not trusting herself to speak any louder.

For a few minutes Hermione sat, gathering her thoughts, and trying to stop herself shaking. Then she grabbed her wand.

If she was this scared, she was no use to anyone. She had to harden herself against everything, so she would not care. 

She had to let him be brought down. Lucius had to die. 

Reluctant as she was, and even with every fibre of her body pleading with her to allow him to be spared, Hermione knew that he had to be killed. Not by her – she could barely think about him without shaking – but by someone who could do their job without thinking about it. 

For the good of everyone, Lucius had to die. He had killed, tortured and terrorised too many people to be allowed to live, no matter how much she wanted him. And anyway, he clearly did not want her.

Hermione assumed Lucius was only enjoying Phillippa's body, that he did not really care for her at all. Still, it appeared he was not in love with Hermione any more. What man in love, even a Death Eater, would run straight into someone else's arms? Sleep so callously with a girl who was barely out of childhood?

No, she had to harden herself. She had to forget that she loved him.

She faced herself in the mirror, eyes running over her own face, setting in her mind the look of desperation and need that had settled itself so persistently into her features. The slightly wild-eyed look. No Auror looked like that.

Hermione raised her wand. She could use the Faiblesse charm. She would erase the love from her consciousness, and then she could do her job. Perhaps she could go back to Harry. Perhaps they could finally be happy.

_But you don't love Harry!_ Her mind exploded into sudden revelation. _You're planning to do exactly what Lucius has just done … you're planning to sleep with someone else when you know full well you're in love with Lucius! And you're planning to do it under the Faiblesse charm, which is – _

Which was a charm, according to their intelligence, highly favoured by the Death Eaters.

Lucius.

Faiblesse. 

Slowly, Hermione lowered her wand, and finally, she realised. 

Lucius had charmed himself. Or he had gotten someone to do it for him. Whichever way, he thought he did not love her any more. It was lodged firmly at the back of his mind, never to be revealed.

There was always the antidote.

She had to know. She looked into her own eyes, and she had to know. She had to know if Lucius still loved her.

The problem – as all problems seemed to be nowadays – was Snape.

The antidote to the Faiblesse charm was a rather complicated potion. It did not take long to brew, but timing and skill was essential, and it required a great deal of experience. No doubt Snape had brewed it before, and he knew how.

Desperately Hermione searched for an alternative, but it was generally acknowledged that Snape was the best potions brewer in England, and … it had to be him.

Hermione smiled faintly. If she had ever had the urge to believe in fate, there was plenty of evidence for it.

*****

She could not bring herself to ask him face to face – she was still rather young, and easily embarrassed, especially with Snape. He had the knack, repulsive as he could be, of reaching into her inner thoughts and making her realise exactly how stupid she was being.

She wrote to him.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I am writing to request several bottles of the antidote to the Faiblesse charm to use in my studies. I am _(here she stopped, sucked her quill, and thought of a convincing lie) _experimenting with how the potion could be used in battle, since you have explained to me a number of times how the Death Eaters use the charm to harden their emotions. _(A wry smile.) __

_I am aware that this is a complicated potion but I am willing to pay for you to brew them for me as I think this could be quite a useful breakthrough in ways to bring down Death Eaters._

_Hermione Granger_

_Auror_

Of course, he would guess straightaway. There was no way she could prevent it. Snape was far more intelligent than she, and like any well-trained spy he would immediately question her motives in asking for the potion.

But she had to know.

Hermione knew she had to take the letter to the Ministry to be sent. Doubtless she was being watched by somebody – Lucius, perhaps, or someone working for him – and an owl sent from the Leaky Cauldron would be intercepted straightaway. The Ministry had ways to send things. She had the meeting with Fudge this morning, so she was going anyway.

Quietly she sat down on her bed, mulling everything over. She would have to ask Fudge to let her go back to the investigation – it was the only way she could get close to Lucius. Fudge would be easy enough to deal with – he didn't even know what had happened between her and Lucius. And the other people who knew – Remus and Harry – she probably wouldn't see for quite some time. So that did not matter.

The person that inevitably _would_ cause problems, though, was Snape.

Hermione had, until now, gone through life accepting that the more you saw of someone, the better you got to know them. Intimacy came with time.

But the more she saw of Snape, the less she understood him. He was enigmatical, reserved, closed, everything that made friendship of any kind difficult. She did not know what he felt about Lucius, whether he wanted Lucius dead, whether he would approve of her killing Lucius, should she have to. She knew that he disapproved of her having slept with Lucius, but further than that she was completely in the dark. Did he disapprove of her as a person? Did he think she was incompetent, a bad Auror? Did he hold some sort of prejudice against her from her schooldays?

She remembered her Auror graduation ceremony. Snape had been there, among the seeming thousands of people who had congratulated her. He had been civil, almost friendly - very different from everything she had known of him. He had not said much – he never did – but his eyes had been new, acknowledging her achievement, respecting her. Hermione had been elated, so terribly elated. 

In working with him she had come to appreciate just how keen his sacrifice must have been. He could never have a normal life. He was one of the very unlucky, whose lives Voldemort had permeated to such an extent that the thought of life without him was alien, strange, and a faraway dream. She knew that Snape held little hope but for Dumbledore and his followers. Politics were so dangerous now. 

So many had wanted Dumbledore to be Minister after it was discovered that Fudge had been trying to cover up Voldemort's return. But they had all failed. Fudge had wielded his weapons. Lucius had been roped in to assist with bribes, Hermione knew – even despite his alleged crimes – in return that he be protected from the investigations. When Fudge had secured his position, Lucius was still senior, still powerful. Still very, very dangerous.

No one had been able to take Lucius out. Fudge had not allowed very extensive investigations into Lucius until fairly recently, and Hermione knew it would take strong evidence to persuade Fudge that Lucius should be arrested and convicted.

Politics were dangerous. Lucius was still protected, and by no means friendless. If he was taken out, retaliation would follow …

But Lucius was one of Voldemort's best. If not _the_ best. He had done terrible things, but he sat astride the two sides so well that he still had his position. He still had power. He could still manipulate things.

Hermione would not be surprised if he was manipulating Fudge. She could picture him in Fudge's office, pleading with a rather pained expression for Fudge to pull himself together, to stop being so paranoid and drop all the investigations. Telling him that it undermined everything. Then casually drop a few coins onto the table. She'd seen it done before.

She suspected Fudge had been rather relieved when she had pulled out of the operation. Now he did not have to be quite so vigilant. He could sit smugly in his Minister's chair, believing that everything was quite in control and that his position was secure.

Hermione smacked the rumpled bedclothes in frustration. Fudge was so stupid. He was so open to corruption. He was trying to wage a war, for fuck's sake, and yet he was accepting bribes from the very people he was supposed to be fighting. 

She had wondered a few times whether Fudge was in league with Voldemort, a puppet of the Dark Lord. She suspected almost everyone had wondered. But she did not believe it. There was no proof, in God knew how many years Fudge had been Minister, to suggest that he was remotely capable of staging something as subtle as that. No. He was simply stupid.

Snape, though, was not stupid. Snape was extremely clever. And Snape knew.

Once he found out that Hermione was returning to the investigation, he would guess quickly enough. He would work out that she loved Lucius. He would realise everything.

Hermione groaned, as she felt the beginnings of a headache sink into her skull. Today, she suspected, was going to be a long day.

*****

'Sit down, Miss Granger.' Cornelius Fudge motioned to the seat in front of his desk.

Hermione sank nervously into the chair. 'Thank you, sir.' She watched him carefully. She still had no idea what this meeting could be about, but judging by Fudge's expression, it was not something trivial.

'Did you have a relaxing time at Hogwarts?' he asked politely.

'Yes, sir. It was wonderful to catch up with everyone.' Best play it safe for now – as yet there was no need to tell him about Snape and her suspicions.

'I trust you are more rested now? Less anxious, less … highly-strung?'

'I … I suppose so,' Hermione lied. She knew perfectly well that despite the amount of sleep she had had, she was no less tired than she had been a week ago.

Fudge regarded her for a moment. 'Miss Granger, I am going to be frank with you. I have allowed you a few days to recuperate. Harry sent me an owl to say that you were exhausted and rather shaken up after your – what exactly did happen with Lucius?'

Hermione had thought this one through already. 'Well, sir, he … he started watching me, and I saw him in Knockturn Alley with one of his friends, and he pointed me out and said something, and they both looked at me, and I – I took fright. He was noticing me more before that as well, I'm sure. He kept looking at me, as if he'd worked out that I kept appearing in the same places as him.' Of course it could never have happened. Lucius was far too subtle to suggest, in public, to someone he could not really trust, that he was being watched.

'So you decided to flee for your own safety?'

'Yes, sir … I thought it would be best to get out for a few days. I couldn't focus my mind, I was too afraid of being attacked or ambushed or something.'

'But are you all right now?'

'I think so.' She raised her chin, and switched to the truth. 'I feel stronger now. I've thought about it a lot, and I know what to do if Lucius becomes suspicious – I back away for a while. Not too far to be obvious, but far enough to keep me safe.'

Fudge looked rather uneasy. 'Are you saying you want to carry on the investigation?'

Hermione groaned inwardly. Her head was still throbbing. _Don't you dare try and think of excuses why I shouldn't, Fudge. You know it's the right thing_.

'Yes, sir. I want to go back to it. Lucius is very closely allied with the Dark Lord, and no matter how high up he is in the Ministry, he is an evil man. He has to be brought down if we are to win.'

'You're rating Lucius' importance very highly, Miss Granger,' Fudge remarked. 'What makes you so sure?'

Hemione sighed. Fine. She would spell it out to him. 'Sir, he's well connected. He's rich. He's powerful. He can do anything if he talks to the right people. And Harry has seen him with the Death Eaters. Several others have too. He's definitely one of them. We know what sort of person Draco is – was. He was his father's son. He was a purist, he hated Gryffindors and Dumbledore and Muggle-borns, he was a great believer in Salazaar Slytherin. And don't tell me you don't believe Lucius is like that too. He's as snobby and elitist as Slytherin was himself. He's Voldemort's right hand man. He shouldn't still be here at the Ministry. He should have been in Azkaban twenty years ago.'

And that, she thought rather sadly, was true. He'd done enough to be kissed. Deadened. A dozen times. He deserved everything he got.

And still she wanted him, even though he had betrayed her. Still she wanted to know if he wanted her. But all that proved, she supposed, is that no one could control who they fell in love with.

Fudge was shaking his head. 'I don't know, Miss Granger. I still think it is a dangerous idea.'

Hermione lost her temper. 'The whole _war's_ a fucking dangerous idea, sir!' she yelled. 'That was bloody stupid, whoever thought that up. But in wartime, danger is bloody everywhere. We have to deal with that. We have to eliminate the people who pose the most threat, and if that means more danger, then that, I'm afraid, is fucking that. I'm _going_ to carry on the investigation, Fudge, whether you like it or not. I'm sick of the dithering, the umming, the twiddling your thumbs. We're at war. And I'm going to the front.'

Fudge's face was cold. 'Miss Granger, you go too far.'

'If it helps to jolt you into some action, sir,' Hermione said, just as coldly, 'then I'm perfectly willing to go further. There's a difference between what should be done, and what has to be done. This has to be done. And I'm the one who's going to do it. Whatever your reasons are for not wanting to bring Lucius down, they don't matter as much as winning the war. And you know that. So let me do my job.'

She was breathing fast with fury. If she hadn't persuaded him, she'd have lost her job by now.

Fudge was dignified, but defeated. 'Fine,' he said. 'Fine. Do it. Bring him down. If you've got enough evidence to prove he's a Death Eater, then do it. But I warn you, Miss Granger, I will not tolerate another outburst. Another loss of temper like that, and you lose your job. The only reason I'm letting you keep it is that as it happens, you're rather good at it. And you're a woman.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'Your point being?'

'Lucius likes women, Miss Granger,' Fudge said coldly. 'If you're so sure, then do what you have to do.'

Hermione swallowed. Fudge _wanted_ her to sleep with Lucius? After all Snape's warnings, everything he had said, Fudge thought it was a good idea?

More than ever now, Hermione realised how terrible a strategist Fudge really was.

But he had warned her.

'I'll do what I need to, sir,' she agreed.

Fudge nodded. 'Good.' He pushed his glasses back up his nose. 'I think that's all, Miss Granger. No doubt you will check on your office and things while you're here?'

'Yes, sir.' Hermione rose and smiled gratefully. 'Thank you, sir. I'm sorry I lost my temper, but … well, I just feel very passionately about the cause, that's all.'

'Better that than complacency, I suppose. Meeting closed.'

*****

Overall, Hermione thought it had gone well. True, she hadn't kept herself under control very well, but she had persuaded him of her reasons and he had allowed her to do what she had asked. So. A success.

She wandered along to her office, which was rather small and located at the back of the Ministry building. It had not changed at all since she had left, save that the inevitable pile of papers on her desk had grown rather larger. 

Wearily Hermione settled herself into the old leather chair, and began to flip through the parchment, looking for anything marked higher than Restricted. 

There was nothing. Various copies of the Daily Prophet, marking another few deaths in Scotland, declaring that despite all this the war effort was making progress. Reports from Harry. Very little had been found in Europe. A letter saying that he was to return soon, bringing the other tired Aurors back with him. That was it.

Hermione threw most of the papers into the bin after reading them once, whereupon they were engulfed in a burst of blue flame. Routine. Nothing.

Right, then.

She made her way down to the post office to send the letter by special Floo to Hogwarts. Fudge had spent rather a lot of money organising the system, and although Hermione, like others, had criticised him for it at the time, she had to admit now that it was useful. Much faster, too. They could communicate with Hogwarts very quickly, which was crucial in such dangerous times.

Hermione decided, after she had sent the letter, that she might as well wait for a reply. Snape would be in the dungeons and was likely to answer immediately, and hopefully send the potions through as well. She hoped the bottles were small enough to go through the Floo system – otherwise they'd have to be sent in a parcel, which would be conspicuous and would take about five hours from Hogwarts.

Then there was movement behind her. 'Good morning, Miss Granger.'

Hermione froze. Then slowly she turned, schooling her face into an expression of cold contempt, and all the while not quite believing it. 'Hello, Lucius.'

She had to swallow hard to keep from crying out when she saw him. 

He was, if it was possible, more handsome than ever. His face was absolutely motionless. She had no idea what he was thinking, but his eyes were full of … of something. 

Her body was throbbing with the hot tension between them. She did not know how long she could look into his face, that full, probing gaze. She needed to breathe so much faster.

'Whatever are you doing here, Miss Granger?' Lucius asked, not taking his eyes from hers for a second.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'I work here,' she answered coolly.

Lucius' cheeks tightened; it appeared he was clenching his teeth. Why, she could not quite work out – it had not been a particularly provocative remark. Perhaps he was trying to keep from saying – or doing – something inappropriate.

Eventually he replied. 'Yes. You do. Although in truth, I haven't seen you here for a rather long time. You always seem to be at that pub.'

'You haven't exactly been avoiding it yourself, Malfoy,' she spat. If he was going to be pointed without actually saying it, then she wasn't going to allow him any liberties. 'You want to be careful, you know. People might think you're not doing your job.'

Lucius smiled faintly. 'I wonder what they'd think about you, then. Whether _you're_ doing your job properly.'

Hermione inhaled sharply. That was too far. 'You don't even know what I'm doing, Malfoy.' _Not any more_.

'No, that's true,' he admitted rather wryly. 'Why don't you enlighten me?'

'Why, I'm standing in the mail room at the Ministry for Magic, talking to Mr Lucius Malfoy.' It was hard to say his name without her voice shuddering, remembering it in the dark. If only she had the damned potion! She might not get another chance …

'What about the last couple of days?' Lucius asked innocently. 'What about your little session in Flourish and Blotts? What about your meeting with dear Cornelius?'

Shit. He knew. He had been watching her, then.

But she could answer. 'And what about your little … outing … with dear Phillippa?'

Lucius' face tensed again. 'What about it?' He sounded rather defensive for someone who was normally so in control.

Hermione pressed her advantage. 'A _seventh-year_, Lucius?' she said contemptuously. 'She's barely more than a child.'

'She's barely younger than -' He broke off and glanced about guiltily, but Hermione knew what he had been going to say. Suddenly she was quite relieved. He had slipped. He had been going to acknowledge that they had slept together.

She searched his eyes, still quietly watching her, but she could detect nothing that convinced her as love, or lust, or softness of any kind. He was hopelessly inscrutable. It was a stalemate.

'I'm going back to my office, if you don't mind,' she said abruptly. 'Excuse me.'

She made to push past him to the door, but he put a strong hand on her arm, held her back, turned her to face him.

Desperately she tried not to look at his eyes, but it was impossible to resist the draw. He stood over her, dark and hot, and she longed to have his lips on hers again … but suddenly she was reminded of her dream. Lucius was no longer hers. He had been snared by another.

'Let me go, Lucius.' There was no bite in her voice, merely quiet determination.

Lucius moved aside, averting his eyes from her face, but she could feel him watching her as she retreated down the corridor. She did not look back; the tears were already pooling in her eyes.

She waited until she had reached her office and murmured a soundproof charm on the door before she burst into heavy sobs.

*****


	8. The Surprise

A/N: Hello, everyone. I seem to say this at the beginning of every chapter, but I'm sorry it's been such a long time. I am also sorry for the lack of author's note in the last chapter. Not that they really say much, I suppose. But anyway. Stand by for ….

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT

Chapter 8

Hermione had made a concerted effort to compose herself, after her breakdown in her room. She made herself go out after lunch, and walk about Diagon Alley. She wanted at least to be tired enough to sleep that night.

But she could not think of anything except that she had seen him, and that he had nearly kissed her. He had been so close, tantalisingly close, and he had been about to kiss her … and she had run away.

She had no idea whether she had done the right thing. Or even if there was a right thing. What would someone else have done? What would a clever, experienced Auror have done? What would Snape have done?

She didn't know. No one except them could possibly know. At the time there had been a moment when Hermione was ready to sink into his arms and let everything else sink away from them … and then she had remembered the dream. Had the dream happened precisely to stop her making the mistake of going back to him? If so, had someone planted it?

But this felt so wrong. Wandering aimlessly, in a daze, wand vaguely grasped in her pocket, alone. Without Lucius. For all she knew, he could be watching her, but she was too preoccupied to think about it.

Very clever, Hermione. You've wanted him for nearly a week. And you finally had him … and you ran away. Very, very clever.

Somewhere near the entrance to Knockturn Alley, she stopped. She stood still, and whispered: 'Lucius.'

She could feel him, almost as if he was there. She could picture him standing in front of her, against her, almost, so close … both burning with lust and red raw love. And she knew, absolutely, as utterly as she knew her own name, that he was not there, and that she had done the wrong thing.

She loved him. He loved her. They needed each other. They needed to be together.

Of course, she could go and find him. Beg for forgiveness, beg for him to have her. It was likely that he'd have her, too. Why, then, was her body standing so strongly against the idea?

She did not know. Perhaps it was Auror pride. And perhaps not. But then, what was it?

Not for the first time that day, Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears. It was all so hopeless.

Miserable and alone, she made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, and ordered a large vodka.

*****

No one would believe that it had not taken Lucius a lot of effort to pretend to Hermione. It had needed all his self-control just to talk to her for that one minute, to be as scathing as he had, and still he had lost it. At the end.

It was lucky, in a way, that she had refused him.

And yet strangely, sadly, horribly not.

It had seemed that she had had to fight with herself to brush him off the way she had. Still, it stung; it struck Lucius deep, where it hurt. It hurt him the way it had hurt him when she had left that Friday morning.

He did not know what he was hoping for. Certainly not a happy couple, a blissful relationship, in a sickly sweet love. Certainly not that. It was war, and war meant suffering. If they were together, they would both suffer.

The question was, would they suffer more if they were apart?

*****

There was probably work Hermione should be doing, but she could not remember it. She needed to go and see if Snape's reply had arrived in her office – it probably had by now – but she could not bring herself to move. She sat, the room rather uneasy and rocking around her, drinking still more vodka. She had lost count of them.

Eventually she staggered to bed, too sleepy even to think about Lucius, and did not move until morning.

The next morning saw no change in Hermione's attitude. She woke with a throbbing headache and a searing heart, and could remember nothing of the previous night after her fourth vodka double. She wondered if maybe she should just go down to the bar again and carry on drinking. There was nothing pleasant to remember; it was better to forget.

But then she caught a sideways glance of herself in the mirror. Tired, dishevelled, dark-eyed, helpless. And she shook herself. This was not the Hermione Granger that had left Hogwarts. This was not the Hermione Granger that had studied so hard she had become an Auror faster than almost anyone ever had.

Hermione Granger would fight.

And so Hermione Granger lifted her chin, dressed, forced half a glass of water down her throat, cast a painkilling spell on herself, and went to the Ministry.

She spent all day working, speaking to no one. Very few people saw her entrance, and she did not leave her office. She did not stop for lunch. Moody's report had arrived, and she had to read it, evaluate it, think about its consequences. She had to write her own report for Dumbledore about Snape.

Of course, everything took her twice as long as usual. Her thoughts were almost constantly on Lucius, and at moments Hermione almost had to crowbar her mind away from him. But she was making progress, she knew. Certainly since yesterday. If she carried on working, she would get over it. If she drowned herself in paper, she would survive.

It was nearing six in the evening when Hermione noticed the envelope sitting in the basket under the letterbox.

She seized it and tore it open, her face flushing with excitement, the horrific possibility of it all, but the green lettering on the front told her immediately that it was not from Lucius. It was from Snape.

_Miss Granger,_

_I confess I am curious about your need for the items you requested, and I suspect my rather idle guesses may not be far from the truth, but I should be able to brew the potions tomorrow night (Friday). I must therefore ask you to be slightly patient. I will contact you if there are any problems._

Severus Snape Hermione sighed, a little relieved. She would write to Snape and tell him she no longer needed the potions. If she had them, she would be tempted to use them. If she were forever thinking of ways to trick Lucius into revealing things, things which quite possibly were not even there, then she would never get over him. And now, after her rather horrific night of misery, she wanted to get over him. Professor Snape, In fact, I no longer need the items I requested. Thanks anyway. Hermione Granger Before she could change her mind, Hermione hurried down to the mail centre and sent off the letter. It was done. She was making progress. 

She worked until late evening, and finally returned to the Leaky Cauldron at about ten, requesting a meal of roast lamb to be brought up to her in her room. Having eaten her fill, Hermione went decisively to bed with a Sleeping Potion, and slept.

The next day, she did much the same, but this time she made a conscious effort to eat properly. She found herself thinking less and less of Lucius, and when she did it was rather distant, rather faded, like something which had happened but which was now over, finished.

Of course, she went to Fudge and told him she had changed her mind. Naturally, he was quite relieved, although Hermione suspected his conscience would eventually catch up with him. He assigned her to be on patrol of wizarding London, on a shift basis. It was perfect. She was working part-time, and she could spend her free hours reading, talking to friends – Harry was coming back – and gathering her thoughts together, ready to face the world again like Hermione Granger did.

Days passed, and Hermione began to feel happier, healthier. It was sliding into March now, and the days were growing lighter. Yes. Things would be all right. She could live without him.

Changing her mind was becoming a bad habit with Hermione.

*****

Late one night, Lucius, half-drunk and thinking of Hermione, did not consider what the Dark Lord would say, or think, or do. 

He knew what had to be done. Finally, he made his decision.

*****

Hermione returned from the Ministry in the evening after a meeting with Harry. He had returned the previous day, and they had had a lot to talk about. She'd explained about the investigation of Snape, and her resuming, and then abandoning once more, the investigation of Lucius. She said nothing of Phillippa. She said nothing of her misery and self-destruction.

Of course, Harry had asked her about Lucius. But she'd been pleasantly evasive, reminding him that she was an Auror and that it did not do to dwell. _What a hypocrite you are, Hermione_, she told herself afterwards.

But still, it was over.

Back in her room at the Leaky Cauldron – she was still staying there, although she was now looking for some sort of alternative accommodation – Hermione bathed, scrubbed a towel over her wet limbs and ordered some food. She was too tired to eat downstairs, and she had an early start tomorrow.

She was in bed and reading by ten o'clock by the glow of an oil lamp. Quivering shadows danced on the wall. 

At thirty-one minutes past ten, Hermione cut off the supply to the lamp. It flickered into obsidian. She jerked her body down under the covers.

At thirty-eight minutes past ten, Hermione Granger fell asleep in the dark.

*****

A scrabbling noise woke her at seventeen minutes past two. 

She opened her eyes. She froze, listening, trying desperately to see.

Someone was trying to open her window from the outside. There was a scratching, a tapping, soft and sharp. 

Hermione snatched her wand from under her pillow and sat up. Her eyes were wide and stark, invisible in the black. She was trembling slightly.

The curtain twitched, and a shard of moonlight danced on the opposite wall. Hermione shook her hair from her face, waiting, pointing her wand directly at the window.

Then, just as a foot padded down onto the floor behind the curtain, Hermione leapt lightly onto the floor and said quietly: 'Don't move a muscle.'

The figure was a dim outline against the light outside, but it stood still.

Hermione twitched the curtain aside with a soft spell, and gasped. 

'Lucius!'

Quickly she flicked her wand to the lamp and murmured: 'Incendio.' A sudden spark flooded the room with a grainy light.

'Hermione,' he said softly.

'What the fuck do you want?'

Lucius' eyes were sad, motionless, like before in the Ministry. His body was less stern, less stiff, and it almost sagged with what seemed like fatigue, but what Hermione knew – or hoped - to be something deeper. She lowered her wand and folded her arms over her silk nightdress.

'Please, just answer the question, Lucius. I'm bloody freezing with the window open.'

'I – I just -' Lucius broke off, and paused. 'I just wanted to – to see you.'

Hermione looked at his face, and then she knew.

Finally, suddenly, she knew.

'How can you just pretend?' Lucius asked brokenly. 'I've been watching you for a week, or more. How can you just pretend not to see me? Like it never happened?'

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. All the emotion, the anger, the lust, the – the love – that she had discarded and barred from her mind over the past days, flooded up, and threatened to engulf.

And then his arms were around her, and hers around him, and they were clinging onto each other with the curtains sweeping into the room, and his mouth was murmuring, warm, into her neck. 'Hermione … I've missed you …'

She pulled him to her, and he could not be close enough for anything. 'Lucius …' She was crying and whimpering into his shoulder.

'So you were pretending,' he sighed. 'I hoped so much you were … but why did you have to? I've wanted you all along …' He ran a hand over her hair, tousled with sleep.

Suddenly Hermione drew back, remembering. 'Was that why you slept with Phillippa diMarco?' she asked.

Lucius' eyes grew frightened. 'Hermione – I – it was …'

Hermione took a deep breath. 'You're not trying to tell me you didn't sleep with her, are you. You did.'

He nodded slowly, not meeting her eyes. 'Yes.'

'How - how can you criticise _me_ for pretending?' Hermione snapped. 'I've been tearing my heart out inside, desperate for it all to end, wanting you so much – so much – and you've been fucking a seventh-year. Sauntering around with your hand on her cheek, buying her books, acting like everything's so fucking wonderful, and I haven't had a bloody clue what to do with myself. But _never_, not in a million years, would I have gone and slept with someone else!'

'So what did you do with Harry?' Lucius said coldly. 'Funny, isn't it, how you run to _him_ at the first sign of trouble. I'm sure that wasn't the last thing on your mind, Hermione. Don't tell me you weren't at least _considering_ going back to him.'

Hermione began to breathe faster. Now the anger and frustration was surfacing, and Lucius' attempt at the old blame shift trick was annoying her even more. 'He's a friend, Lucius. I went to him for comfort. And of _course_ there was a possibility of that. He was my first lover. That's always going to be between us. But nothing happened – at least, not when Harry realised that I didn't want him. It's all finished.'

'So is everything with Phillippa and me!' Lucius protested. 'It was never really anything … she wants connections, and I was – well, I thought it'd be prudent to oblige … and she'd be quite an asset to …'

'To the Death Eaters?' Hermione said coldly. 'I see you're still eager to please your Master. Still a Death Eater at heart, then.'

Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'From what I remember, you rather like them bad, Hermione. First Draco, and now me …'

'Surely it'd be more of a compliment to say that I liked the Malfoy family,' Hermione retorted. 

Then she sighed. 'I didn't want you because you're a Death Eater, Lucius. It was because I thought there was some decency in you even though you're one. You said you loved me. That'll touch anyone. Even if they regret it afterwards.'

'Do you regret it?'

Hermione considered. Then she said quietly: 'Yes, I do. I regret ever letting myself be hurt by you like this. I regret believing that you really did love me and that you wouldn't betray me. Yes, I wish it had never happened. We never should have.'

Lucius looked at her for a long time, saying nothing.

She remembered it all. She remembered his eyes boring into her like this before they had even started talking, let alone slept together. And she remembered how amazing it had felt when they had made love. She remembered the sudden, gasping, shooting pleasure that she had never before felt with anyone.

And then she remembered Phillippa.

'Why, Lucius?' she burst out. 'Why did you sleep with her? Until I saw you with her I was so in love with you. I wanted you so much … and you've destroyed everything.'

'It's my job, Hermione,' Lucius replied coolly. 'It's my job to sleep with women who might be useful.'

'She's not a woman, Lucius, she's a _girl_!' she exclaimed. 'Barely even an adult … but the younger the better for you, I suppose.'

A faint smile traced across Lucius' lips, before he banished it, and it fired her anger when she realised that her words were true, and he was lecherous, lustful, disloyal.

'Get out,' she snarled. 'Just leave me alone. Let me live out my live in peace.'

'Without me, Hermione?'

She turned away in disgust.

Suddenly there were footsteps, and his hands were on her waist again, his nose nuzzling her neck. Hermione turned to try to push him away, but the expression in his eyes made her gasp. There was a passion more intense rooted there, in the cool pools of silver, than anything she had thought possible. He breathed slowly, carefully, and every inch of him breathed desire.

'Are you really going to refuse me, Hermione?' he whispered. 'After all this? After … this?' He ran a finger down her jawbone, and then gently lifted her chin, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Hermione remembered their first kiss. That bruising, bitter, warm taste. She remembered their subsequent kisses, the completeness, the giving. 

But she remembered nothing like this.

It was achingly teasing. His tongue ran over her lips in languid, easy strokes that set her whole body on fire. He was dominant now. Before, they had been equal, both in love with each other, but now there was uncertainty, and he was taking control.

It was better than what Hermione remembered. Gradually she opened her mouth to his, letting him ravage her as her emotions had, letting him bruise her. She wanted him to be master. She wanted him.

'No!' The words burst from her lips suddenly, and were unanticipated by both. She stumbled backwards, away from him, turning her body away, desperate not to have to meet his eyes.

'No, Hermione?' Lucius said softly. 'After everything … no?'

He stroked a hand down her hair, her bare shoulder, her waist, and she could feel him drawing closer behind her.

His mouth was by her ear. 'No?'

He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him. Hermione looked determinedly past him, refusing to look at him.

Lucius pushed her backwards, back down onto the bed, his weight resting on her, his breath heavy against her.

She could do nothing to resist him. Her whole body had turned to liquid, melting under him.

'No?'

What was there, she reasoned, that she could possibly do? He had her, and he would take her if she did not resist.

But would he rape her? Was there a way to force him to stop?

As soon as she had thought it, she pushed off the lust, and began to struggle with him, pressing her hands into his shoulders, forcing her weight upwards. 'Get – off – Lucius -' 

But immediately he got up, his eyebrows raised. 'Don't be silly, Hermione. I'm not going to force you. You can't trick me into that. If you really don't want me, I'll go. The problem is … I think you do. And I'm not leaving until you tell me otherwise.'

'Fine,' Hermione snapped. 'Lucius, I don't want -'

His lips cut her off. Hot, heady, and so deliciously Malfoy.

Her resolve crumbled. She pulled him down to her. She let him take her.

The waiting was over.

*****

A/N: This is what you call one of these 'finally' moments, I suppose. About bloody time, too. Anyway, please review!

~SS~


	9. The Moments

A/N: I am SO sorry for the delay in this. It's due to a number of things – writer's block, not knowing quite where to take the story, struggling between realism and sentimentalism and a scene where they might just have a bloody good fuck ... it's been a tricky one. I've also been at university, which is extremely intense and leaves me with next to no time to write at all.

That said, I would prefer to put this up after the delay and know I've thought it through a little more than hastily write a next chapter for the sake of regular updating. Shame the interval had to be _quite_ so long.

Anyway, that's my apology. Many thanks to all who have reviewed so far – please keep it up – it helps so much ...

On with the story.

* * *

IN THE NOISE OF SORRY NIGHT

Chapter 9

The light slipped in through the crack in the curtains and filtered into the rest of the room, not smooth, but grainy and soft.

Lucius Malfoy lay quietly gazing at the ceiling, a small smile on his lips. He glanced down at the body sleeping next to him, ran a hand over the long brown hair and pulled the sheet up around her shoulders. He sighed, and remained perfectly still, contented.

* * *

Having been awake all night, and unable to contemplate rest, Severus Snape became more and more frustrated.

* * *

When Hermione woke and saw his bare skin next to her, she was frightened, and began to move away, before she remembered what had happened.

She looked at him. His eyes were alarmed, like hers, and she realised that he was reliving their first (and only) morning together, when she had fled. Then she smiled, and leaned forwards to kiss him on the lips.

'Good morning.'

Lucius closed his eyes and sighed deeply. 'Thank God,' he whispered. 'You're not doing it again.'

Hermione sat up and kissed him again, savouring him, her mind heavy with happiness. 'I'll never do it again.'

He wrapped his arms around her, and they lay for several minutes, listening to each other's breathing. Several times Hermione was on the verge of telling him that she loved him, but she stopped herself. She did not want to force him to say it in return: it was not really fitting with his character. Besides, she was so unsure of her own feelings that she could not bear the thought of lying. In the end, she asked him: 'Shall we be all right, Lucius?'

'It depends,' he sighed, 'what you mean by "all right".'

'Why, that we'll be married in a perfect wedding, with all our friends and family around us, that our marriage will unite the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin and end the war, and that we'll live happily ever after, of course,' she joked.

There was a beat when Lucius looked at her, and then he laughed warmly, deeply, more than she expected, before she understood why.

'Honestly, Hermione,' he said, smiling, 'do you really think there's happy ever after for people like us?'

* * *

As soon as Severus opened the door and saw Lucius, he knew what he had come to say.

He moved aside, letting Lucius into the flat. 'Come in. Sit down.'

Lucius lowered himself gracefully into one of Severus' armchairs. Severus took a seat opposite him, carefully placing a black leather strip over the page he had been reading, and closing the heavy book.

There was a pause. Lucius was evidently trying to phrase something into words. Severus rose silently, and poured them drinks.

'I -' Lucius began.

Severus turned to look at him from his drinks cabinet. 'I'm sorry?'

Lucius lowered his eyes. 'It's quite … it's difficult, Severus, you understand. You do understand what I mean, don't you?' He looked at the other man.

Severus did not move.

'I mean, you understand what I've come to say,' Lucius explained quietly.

Another pause. Then, trying to subdue the sudden wave of sorrow that had risen in his chest, Severus nodded slowly. His face felt very stiff.

Lucius sighed. 'Yes. You usually do … Anyway, I suppose I should explain. I fell in love with the girl, Severus. Even more than I – well, you know.'

'Yes.'

Suddenly Lucius began to talk quickly. 'I couldn't help it, I – I went to her room last night, and I talked to her, and we argued, of course, but … But we couldn't help it. And I think she loves me, Severus. And I think … for the first time in my life, or the first time since … since Narcissa, I have a desire to be monogamous. To wake up every morning and see her face, to spend my evenings with her, to -'

Severus turned his face away, as Lucius continued to talk. He remembered when Lucius had been in love with Narcissa. Before he'd grown so bitter at her coldness, before he'd come to hate her. It was like that all over again, the same earnest, apologetic air. He had had less to apologise for then, though. Then, it hadn't been twenty years.

Lucius stopped abruptly. 'I'm sorry, Severus. I know what it means. And I did love you – or I do still, I'm not sure. There's always been something between us, and we've both enjoyed it, we've both loved it. We both hated it at times, I know. But we've always had so much between us. But Hermione … it's like she's my chance to put it all right, everything that happened with Narcissa. To do it all properly. I don't really understand it; I don't expect that you will either. But I think this needs to be done.'

A beat. 'I see.' Severus raised a hand to his eyes, ashamed at the tears that were beginning to pool there. 'We're finished, then.'

Lucius did not reply.

Severus nodded. He almost wanted to smile at this seemingly resurrected memory of Lucius as a young man, the clear, silver eyes, the open face. Not in the whole twenty years had he ever been like this.

Of course there were a few points on which Severus was curious. 'Does she know about us?'

Lucius looked a little awkward. 'No … no, she doesn't. I'm not going to tell her. If it's over, there's no need, really.'

'What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Although it's another example of your unfailing infidelity.'

Lucius closed his eyes. 'Precisely the reason I'm breaking it off now.'

'I see.'

'Don't tell her, Severus. It wouldn't really be fair, and … well, I hope you're not spiteful like that. You never were before.'

'I had no need before,' Severus said calmly.

Lucius' eyes grew desperate. '_Please_, Severus. It won't make me come back to you. Please, you owe me that, at least. At least give me a chance of making a go of it.'

Severus sighed. 'Fine,' he agreed heavily. 'What are you going to do about Voldemort?'

'What about him?'

'Are you just going to casually inform him you're fucking a Gryffindor? Or are you just going to hope he doesn't find out? Or are you going to leave?'

'I don't know yet. I'm going to discuss it with her later. There's no safe way out of that, I know. But it'll be all right.'

Severus snorted. 'If you insist on ruining your career, your reputation and your friends in one move I won't try to stop you, Lucius. Our Master won't like it. And frankly, if you don't tell him, I will. Or he'll take it out on me, as you well know. So you'd better hurry up.'

Helplessly Lucius nodded. 'I'm sorry, Severus.'

'So you've said.' Severus inhaled sharply. 'You'd better go, Lucius,' he said softly. He did not want to break down in front of his lover. Former lover. No longer a lover.

'I'm -'

'Go on. Go to her. I've no claim to you any more.'

Lucius nodded, and left quietly.

Severus took several deep breaths, his mouth open and his eyes wide. Then, as the tears began their heavy, salty way down his skin, his body shuddered violently with the anguish, and he cried out. It was a hot, raw shout, and Lucius tried to pretend he had not heard it as he made his way out of the door below the flat.

The emotions made their slow way through Severus' body, and in pain he pulled at his own clothes, his hair, trying to release it. His robe ripped, and he sank to the floor, clutching the scrap of material, sobbing violently.

* * *

Severus had never really been one for revenge. He had watched Lucius handle it a few times – rather more than a few, he admitted – and decided that it was petty more than anything else, and very rarely worth it.

But his libido was something he had never taken into account. It was not, by comparison to some he'd encountered, so terribly high, but when it was frustrated, and when Lucius was not available, it boiled in his groin, straining and pushing. And at the same time, tears were steadily forced from his eyes, his whole body almost squirming with the pain, the fury.

It happened in the middle of the night. Severus hated it. And, of course, the frustration got to his head.

Though Severus had always, always thought things through before he acted, this time he let instinct, and his broken emotions, take over.

Even so, he lay awake for the rest of the night, making sure.

* * *

Harry let him in more out of surprise than of any real feeling of cordiality. 'I – I didn't expect to see you here.'

Snape smiled, and the corners of his mouth twisted slightly. 'Yes, well … I'm not thrilled to have to be here, I'm afraid.'

Harry raised an eyebrow.

'I've come about Miss Granger.'

'Hermione? What about her?'

Snape cleared his throat quietly. 'Do you – have you seen her recently?'

'Not for the last … oh, I don't know – two days, maybe? Why, what's wrong?'

'She's gone back to Lucius.'

There was an icy pause. 'What?'

Snape sighed.

'No, that can't be right, she's not that stupid … she's not in love with him, is she?'

'It would seem she is,' Snape muttered.

Harry exhaled sharply. He put his hand over the back of a wooden chair and gripped it hard, his tendons standing stark on his hand. 'Hermione, you fool … what are you doing?'

'You're in love with her,' Snape softly.

Harry froze. 'What?'

'Your reaction … it's quite understandable.'

'What are you talking about? Who gave you the right to tell me who I am and am not in love with? It's none of your business.'

'I know,' Snape said. 'I know.' He watched Harry stare into space. 'I know.' Somehow he could not stop repeating it, hoping to prolong the moment, hoping he wouldn't come to the betrayal, hoping they would never reach that moment.

Harry looked up at Snape. He stared at him. Then he stood up, straight, stiff. 'Oh, Merlin … you as well?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'For fuck's sake, Snape, why can't you just leave her alone?'

'What the bloody hell are you talking about, Potter?' the older man snapped.

'You're in love with Hermione!'

Snape's eyes widened, and for a beat he stared at Harry in shock. Then he laughed shortly. 'Hermione? Oh, would that it were, Harry. Oh, fuck, no. No, I'm in love with Lucius.'

* * *

That night again, Severus lay awake. Severus lay with his wand in his hand, waiting for the Aurors.

A small vial sat on his windowsill, in the moonlight.

There was always a choice.

* * *

When Hermione arrived at Lucius' flat after work, he was waiting for her in his chair. Hair loose, shirt partly unbuttoned, bare feet pushing forward from under his black trousers.

Hermione walked straight to him, and let him hold her waist firmly, and kissed him. Then she lifted up his left sleeve.

'Ah yes,' he murmured. 'Our little problem.'

'What's he going to do?' she asked.

He paused. Abruptly he pulled her forward, jerked her robe away from her throat. Then he gripped her neck, and squeezed with his fingers, pressed into her windpipe.

'Lucius ...'

He tightened his grip. Then, just as her eyes were growing panicked, at the moment when she hated him, he released her and drew her down onto him. 'Did you think I would?'

Hermione looked at him, velvet eyes wide. 'I don't know.'

'Believe me, Hermione,' he sighed. 'If he had done to me what I think he'll want to, then I would have. And would again. And always would, rather than have that pain.'

She nodded, barely moving at first, but then firmly. 'I don't care.'

Suddenly he smiled. 'Well, then that gives us a little ... breathing room.' He slid a hand up her side, under her robe.

But Hermione squirmed away. 'No, Lucius, you can't just ignore it. You can't pretend he won't find out – you can't pretend he won't – won't kill you. He probably already knows, doesn't he?'

'I expect so. Not that anyone except Severus knows about it, as yet, but he may find it his duty to turn me in.'

'But – he wouldn't – he wouldn't betray his closest friend, would he?'

Lucius did not reply. He appeared in fact not to have heard what Hermione had said: he was staring past her, obviously deep in thought.

'Lucius!' She snapped her fingers in front of his face. 'Would he betray you?'

'I don't know. He disapproves very strongly of what I'm doing.'

Hermione knew very well that Snape would be a dangerous subject for them, since Lucius, as far as she knew, did not realise that Snape was a spy, and presumably believed he was loyal to Voldemort. Indeed, Lucius' split loyalties were likely to cause problems everywhere.

She had not really bothered to wonder whether she was being stubborn in believing that Lucius and she could be happy together; she was ready to admit she had been largely controlled by lust. But he seemed so serious in his feelings for her that she could not help but return them. After all, it was he who faced the greater danger if Voldemort did discover their relationship. And yes, he had become reckless with his life since he had grown so unhappy – but then wouldn't she be unhappy if she could not have him? Would she not hate herself for dismissing him despite all the anguish she had experienced?

'Why did you feel the need to tell him, Lucius?'

'He'd have realised as soon as he saw me, even if I hadn't told him. Keeping secrets from Severus is much more difficult than keeping them from the Dark Lord. Severus is extremely perceptive – I'm sure you've noticed that.'

'Yes … on numerous occasions. I suppose –'

There was a loud knock on the door. Instantly Hermione was silent. Lucius' eyes were terrified and pleading. She motioned him towards the bathroom and, reluctantly, he obeyed her.

The knock was repeated. 'Hermione? Are you there?'

Hermione started. 'Harry?'

'Yes, it's me … let me in, for God's sake.'

She opened the door, and Harry strode into the room, movements large and wild. 'Is he here? Is he here?'

'Is who here?' she asked, trying to sound innocent and confused.

'Malfoy,' Harry snarled. 'Are you hiding him?'

'Harry, please, calm down,' Hermione pleaded desperately, with little effect.

Harry, apparently satisfied that Lucius was not in the bedroom, walked to the bathroom door and pulled open the door – and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the sound of wet, breaking bones and hoarse cries – but they did not come. She heard Harry pull back the curtain around the bath, and then a few seconds later he returned to the bedroom. 'Where is he?'

'If you mean Lucius Malfoy, then I don't know.'

'Well, his things are here,' Harry pointed out, furiously indicating Lucius' shoes on the floor by the bed. 'You've seen him?'

'Yes.'

'You're fucking him?'

Hermione closed her eyes in pain at Harry's harsh tone. 'Yes,' she whispered.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. 'You stupid, stupid girl, Hermione, he's a _Death Eater_, for fuck's sake …'

'I know!' she shouted suddenly. 'I know he is, but I love him! And he loves me, and –'

'He doesn't love you, Hermione, he doesn't know how. He's been unfaithful to you.'

'Philippa diMarco, you mean?' she said exasperatedly. 'I know about that, Harry, we've talked about it –'

Harry gripped her shoulders firmly. 'No, not Philippa diMarco,' he said. 'This has lasted twenty years, Hermione.'

'_Who_, Harry?'

Suddenly Lucius appeared from the bathroom. Harry immediately lunged at him, but Lucius blocked him easily, and said, 'I've decided my Invisibility Cloak is no longer necessary. I'd like the opportunity to be able to give Hermione the truth of what you're about to say.'

'Go on, then, you tell her,' Harry sneered. 'Tell her just how much of a bastard you really are, Malfoy.'

Lucius looked at Hermione, his face pale. 'Promise you'll hear me out,' he said tersely.

She nodded, terrified of what he was about to say. Could it be worse than Philippa diMarco, could it –?

'Hermione, for the last twenty years or so, I've been – that is to say – well …' He paused, then spoke flatly. 'For the last twenty years, Severus Snape and I have been lovers.'

Hermione froze. She replayed his words in her head, trying to understand what they meant. Then the shock hit her in the stomach, and she gasped for air, trying to breathe, trying to stand up. Harry caught her, and helped her to the edge of the bed, where she sat, curled up, staring numbly at Lucius.

'You have to understand – we – we've always been very close. It's been on and off. Sometimes we've hated each other. But we know each other so well, and … We've never been exclusive partners. Severus graciously allowed me the freedom to enjoy women, too.'

'How generous of him,' Harry retorted.

'Stay out of it, Potter,' Lucius spat, then continued. 'Anyway … when I realised I was in love with you, and after you left me that first time, I submitted to the Faiblesse charm, to try to rid myself of my feelings. But of course it only worked for a while. As you saw. I tried – I tried Philippa, and I tried Severus. Neither worked. Not even Severus – who's never been unable to soothe my frustration before.

'Anyway, I came to see you … after we met at the Ministry … and you took me back … and this morning, when you went to work, I went to see Severus … and I broke it off. I do not wish to be unfaithful to you.' Lucius' voice was very quiet. 'And he wasn't happy about it. In fact, I believe he was quite upset. I expect his telling Harry was something of an attempt at revenge, or sabotage.'

Harry was standing, open-mouthed, apparently speechless with anger. Then he appeared to compose himself. 'Hermione. I'm sorry you've had to hear this. Frankly, I'm amazed the coward had the courage to tell you himself, rather than leave it to someone else who can't bear to hurt you.'

'If you have a point, Harry, I suggest you make it,' Hermione said quietly.

He looked at her for a second. Then, without warning, he pointed his wand at Lucius; with a bang, Lucius was thrown to the ground, and his wand sailed through the air to land firmly in Harry's hand. At the same time, Remus and Tonks appeared in the room, both aiming their wands at Lucius, whose face was blank, betraying no fear, but obviously anticipating what was to come.

Harry spoke. 'Lucius Malfoy, I am placing you under arrest for suspected treason to the wizarding world, and to the Muggle world, in supporting and assisting the criminal Lord Voldemort; for the charges of murder, assault, rape, torture, both of wizards and witches and of muggles, amongst many others. You will go with us to the Ministry and will be held in Azkaban prison until formal trial.'

Hermione did not move as Remus and Tonks bound Lucius. She watched the fear gradually overwhelm his face, until he was visibly shaking. She felt nothing.

Only when they had left, when Harry had thrown a passing, pitying glance at her before Apparating with the others, did she sink to the floor, sobbing violently. She could not have known that a few hours earlier, Severus had curled his arms and legs around himself in the same way, and cried as she now did.

* * *

A/N: I'd just like to take this opportunity to advertise a relatively new story I'm writing, 'The Raven's Claw', which focuses on an interesting, tension-filled triangle between Severus, Lucius and a character of my own creation, Ash, Severus' very good friend. Exchange of wits, hostility, drunkenness, promiscuity, nudity, hints of slash ... the usual good stuff. Readers and reviewers would be fabulous! 


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